The Glory of Their Days
by Glennfiddich12
Summary: The first shots of Earth's fight against the Ori are taken as the US and her allies strike at the Priors. Change comes to Atlantis and governments prepare for Disclosure.
1. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

_This story is the genesis of some ideas that have popped up over the last few months. Some of them had their start when I began "The Unlikely Road Taken". I apologize to those readers who have waited for the follow-up chapters to that tale. I wholeheartedly promise a return to the story soon. Unfortunately, real-life commitments and distractions precluded me from continuing the story late in 2005. I'm sure many can sympathize with that. The two stories are unrelated, even as some of the characters are the same._

_As for this story, if you're looking for a sweeping O'Neill-Carter romance with action, then this is not your cup of tea. I'm not a fan of the SG-1 romance trend in fan fiction. If you enjoy it then more power to you. I just don't find it interesting. As I hope you'll discover, this story will be somewhat gritty, fact-based (as much as sci-fi can be!) and hopefully, realistic. I endeavor as much as possible to depict the government and military not as Hollywood would, but as they really are. The tools are out there to do the research which will make anyone's story that much better. So many clichés about the military and things such as government cover-ups have permeated that it's become an accepted part of society. Those who have served may disagree with such easy acceptance._

_I ask those who read this tale to review it if they like. All authors in some way enjoy feedback, whether positive or negative. I am no different. I only hope that you will find this story as enjoyable as the many of outstanding quality. _

_I state for the record that this is a work for personal enjoyment, not financial profit. Many of the characters are taken directly from the plots of Stargate: SG-1 and Stargate Atlantis. All others are creations of the author. No money has or will change hands between parties. I expect no profit from this story. This narrative may be reproduced for personal entertainment use only._

_Finally, as you read and hopefully enjoy this story, please remember that there are real soldiers of many nations at this time fighting around the world for your right to read, write and think as you wish. Please keep them in your thoughts._

_Best Wishes,_

_Glennfiddich12_


	2. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

"_The terrible Ifs accumulate."_

Winston Churchill

_The World Crisis, _Vol. I, Ch. XI

"_O ornament of wisdom and of art,_

_What souls are these whose merit lights their way_

_Even in Hell. What joy sets them apart?" _

Dante Alighieri

_The Inferno, _Canto IV

_THE RANGER CREED_

_Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high esprit de corps of my Ranger Regiment._

_Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that, as a Ranger, my country expects me to move further, faster, and fight harder than any other soldier._

_Never shall I fail my comrades, I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight, and I will shoulder more than my share of the task, whatever it may be, one hundred percent and then some._

_Gallantly I will show the world that I am a specially selected and well trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress, and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow._

_Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country._

_Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor._

**Rome**

**November 22, 54 B.C.**

It made no sense to the augur. He was stunned when told. He was a priest of divination and the signs. And this was certainly not a good sign. The signs couldn't come any bolder than this. He nervously tugged at his _toga trabea_, a purple and scarlet robe. The Senate was in an uproar. When that happened, bad things usually followed.

_But it made no sense,_ he thought. _How do thousands go missing in a single night, including an entire Legion?_ They had been stolen from homes. Entire populations of villages had been taken. No rampaging army had been seen, few bodies left strewn. Those that did remain bore strange and horrible burns that exposed their inner functions. The priest was shaken. Only the gods could possibly explain such things and they currently were silent. The questions remained.

_How? Where did they all go?_

**Groom Lake, NV**

**May 5, 2006**

Major General Jack O'Neill could honestly say he wasn't entirely happy with the chain of events. It hadn't been his idea. He didn't harbor any personal animus towards the United States Navy; he just didn't like to see more hands in the cookie jar. The cookie jar had been under assault as of late. It was interesting though, watching how the Navy held to their traditions tightly. He half-expected John Paul Jones to make an appearance. _They'll probably want a mast attached, _he mused as a bottle of champagne crashed into her side.

O'Neill was at Area 51 for the commissioning of America's newest interstellar battlecruiser, the _USS Intrepid._ She was the third of the _Daedelus_ class ships to be completed. Her namesake, a World War II aircraft carrier with a distinguished record, was now a floating museum at a pier in lower Manhattan. The difference between the _Intrepid_ and the _Daedelus_ was in who would be crewing her. It would not be the United States Air Force. After months of wrangling within the Department of Defense, it had been decided that since they were ships, the Navy would be in charge of the program and would manage the fleet. Needless to say, USAF was not happy about it.

The Navy was overjoyed. After watching the Air Force reap a windfall of benefits from the SGC such as the F-302, they were desperate to secure their future. They now would be at the forefront. Plans were in place for a fleet of advanced cruisers and other vessels. The Air Force had fought a vicious rear-guard action to protect their turf. It had failed. Many in the Air Force, especially the fighter jocks who ran it, were bitterly angry at O'Neill, thinking he should have fought harder for his branch. Many of the old-time fighter types within USAF were never comfortable with O'Neill, who came from special operations, not the fighter or bomber communities and never seemed to fit into the Air Force's corporate mindset. Now their anger was fully stoked. The Air Force would continue to run _Daedelus _and _Odyssey_, but all future ships of the fleet would belong to the US Navy. The _Interpid's_ sister ships, _USS Ranger, USS Essex _and_ USS Hornet,_ were in various stages of planning and construction. The British were in the planning stage for their own battle cruiser of the _Daedelus _class, _HMS Royal Sovereign. _Russia of course had the _Korolev_, which it had extorted out of the United States in exchange for continued control of the stargate.

The _Intrepid_ would contain the latest in technological advances including extensive modifications developed through trial and error with the _Daedelus_ and input from the Asgard. She would boast two squadrons of F-302's piloted by naval aviators and a Marine Corps assault team. Due to the threat of the Ori, the Asgard had become more generous in their technical assistance, allowing the US to upgrade the newest ships to a greater extent.

The loss of _Prometheus_ had been a body blow to the program and the Air Force. Coming as it had at the height of the struggle between the Air Force and Navy, it served as the final nail in the coffin. Jack had been among those authorizing her mission to destroy the Ori satellite weapon. Although she had not been as advanced as the new line of battle cruisers coming on duty, she had still been an important key in the defense of Earth. Congressional hearings were on tap. He could see the blood in the water.

O'Neill could only sit and sigh, the sigh of a man resigned to the current condition. In the past decade, he had found himself whipsawing from straight-laced military man to retired military man to smart-ass military man to now straight-laced and besieged military man. _It would be funny_, he thought, _if it wasn't so pathetic_. Things were changing, and they were taking him along for the ride. Plagues, Priors, rogue alien alliances and nervous allies (_were there any other?_) were all conspiring to make his life and job increasingly complex.

Above all else, he was worried. In his current job, worry seemed to stalk him like an African big game hunter. He was charged with advising the president on strategy pertaining to the stargate. Instead, he found that it had morphed into putting out small or large fires on a seemingly endless basis. A deep and unshakeable pessimism was taking hold. He was scared for his country. From his point of view, the United States was slowly be choked to death by multiple predators. On Earth, it was a Muslim world boiling with an almost uncontrollable pot of resentment, rage and jealousy. Coupled with a dying Western Europe and a growing monster in China, it was threatening to overwhelm America's capacity. Out in the Wild West known as the universe, a two-front war was forming. Ori on one flank, Wraith on the other. Even with its massive industrial and scientific capacities, it was a war the United States would need allies to fight and win. But would her citizens have the heart for it?

As the ceremony concluded, O'Neill managed to corner the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Jonathan Clark, whose expression made it seem like he'd just won the lottery. Clark gave new meaning to erudite. He resembled a suburban accountant but had the intellect and political cunning of an Alexander Hamilton. Clark knew what he wanted, namely a Navy with a secured mission. He then went out and got it with a political flare not seen in the Navy in quite some time. He was ruthless, but fair. It was a unique combination that drove lesser men to distraction. Clark shared many of O'Neill's growing concerns.

O'Neill got to the point. "You've seen the latest intelligence take sir?"

"Yeah, I'm not happy with developments out there. When are you in D.C. for the meeting?"

"Thursday. Things will start happening soon."

"I know. If the Ori get a beachhead here, stopping them becomes highly problematic. We need time but we're not getting it. I do not like the reports from Atlantis either. Weir is playing one hell of a dangerous game out there. The idea of the Wraith and the Ori somehow hooking up scares me the way the idea of Japan and Germany driving through and linking up in India or the Middle East during World War II scared that group of commanders. We need to get more people out there."

Jack had heard the doubts about Elizabeth Weir before and wasn't biting. "I think they're doing well, considering how far out on the supply chain they are and the hand we've been dealt in the Pegasus Galaxy. There isn't an ally out there worth a damn. They've got those sneaky Genii head cases plotting out there too."

Clark just grunted his agreement on that sentiment. "I agree with you there. The Genii need a lesson in humility and manners. The day is coming when we'll need to instill that lesson. We need to bulk up our presence there. I know you're a big backer of Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard and I agree he's done a great job, if a little unorthodox, but we need to get a more seasoned commander out there."

Jack had been listening to this drumbeat as well since contact with Atlantis had been reinstated. Early on, the Marine Corps had wanted John Sheppard's head on a platter for the death of Colonel Sumner. It didn't help that he wasn't a darling of the Air Force either, since Jack had plucked him from career purgatory. Sheppard's only saving graces were the Ancient gene he carried and the presence of Colonel Caldwell and the _Deadelus._ Jack liked Sheppard a lot thought. He was an aggressive yet prudent leader who had proven himself in combat. And he brought to the program something Jack appreciated in commanders; an ability to think creatively and get others to buy into his leadership. Jack also saw the O'Neill-like smart-ass in him. He liked that a lot. As for the Genii, O'Neill agreed. Their day of reckoning was coming. Few things piqued his anger more than those scum. They had murdered US military personnel in a deceitful manner and even the President was asking for a plan of retribution. Upon hearing of their actions, Hayes had screamed "DO THEY KNOW WHO THEY"RE FUCKING WITH!" It took a lot to anger Henry Hayes, but the Genii managed to do it. They had even angered the Europeans, who for once agreed with the Americans that a lesson was in order. That led to the code name for a plan in the works: OPERATION RETRIBUTION. O'Neill wanted it accomplished before he retired. From Weir's report, they supposedly desired C-4. _Well, _Jack reasoned, _we'll deliver it in spades._ The United States Army would be paying them a visit in the near future.

O'Neill moved to deflect Clark on the Sheppard issue, for now. "We're going to be reviewing our troop commitments there and making some recommendations to you and the other Chiefs as well as the Commission. Doctor Weir will be arriving with _Deadelus_ next week. There's a lot on the agenda. I'm getting the feeling the Allies are close to agreement on a troop deployment to Atlantis."

"It's about time they sent more than some tech geeks and some special ops types. When do we catch a breather Jack?"

Jack just smiled. "Sir, I've been asking that question for a decade."


	3. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**IT'S A HARD-KNOCK LIFE…**

**Washington, D.C.**

**May 9, 2006**

It was a peculiar yet sad thing, he thought, the amount of security a man can surround himself with. This was especially true when that man is expected to lead others. Leadership makes you a target for those who desire a different leader or system. Eyeing all the security, he could only sigh that it was a sad day when the elected leader of a great nation needed so much protection from those of his people who would do him harm.

For Cardinal Antonio Villanueva, coming to the White House was always an interesting experience, even if it meant passing through various Secret Service checkpoints. As an accredited diplomat, he was treated with the utmost respect and courtesy which included being whisked into the grand building on Pennsylvania Avenue much more quickly than the average visitor. The time of day helped. It was past 10:00 in the evening and it was rather quiet, especially for the White House. He always took the time to admire various portraits and other artwork hung throughout the building. Tonight was no exception. _Beautiful, but not Saint Peter's_ he mused to himself with a smirk.

Cardinal Villanueva had been here before of course. As Papal Nuncio, he was the official ambassador of the Vatican to the United States of America. With this job came invitations to receptions and state dinners of all sorts. Villanueva was born for the job. He had served the Vatican and the Roman Catholic Church for over 35 years in various parts of the world, working to further the Church's mission of peace and goodwill. Apart from diplomacy, he was also an accomplished scholar and linguist who could debate art history with the Louvre's curator and hold a conversation in Attic Greek with Aristotle, should he decide to come back from the dead. Villanueva knew he was smart but tried to hide it with the humility of a simple parish priest. He was also a man with a long-term view. The Roman Catholic Church was older than every government on Earth and it was the job of Villanueva and his fellow clergymen to keep it that way.

His purpose tonight was unknown, even to him. A call had come to the Holy See's embassy earlier in the day from the State Department requesting his presence this evening. He had arrived at the back entrance and was hustled into the building out of view. For Villanueva, the cloak and dagger methods were somewhat amusing and yet foretold that trouble was afoot. Like many of his Vatican colleagues, he was an excellent intelligence agent for the Pope, who above all else needed information if he was to shape events. Villanueva's curiosity was in overdrive as an aide announced him into the Oval Office.

"Mr. President, Cardinal Villanueva."

The President of The United States rose from behind his desk with a certain amount of athletic grace. "Your Eminence, a pleasure as always."

"Mr. President, so good to see you again." Their handshake was warm and courteous. Cardinal Villanueva actually liked and respected Henry Hayes, apart from certain areas of disagreement. They had sat not long ago in this same room and debated the abortion fights that were raging in America's court system. They also had a long running difference over the war in Iraq. Villanueva had recently taken him to task on _Meet the Press_ over the issue.

"Of course Your Eminence you know Secretary of State Tallmadge." It was then that Villanueva noticed that others were in the room with them. Besides Secretary Tallmadge were Secretary of Defense Dr. Gerald Kiel, the imposing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Francis Maynard and the White House Chief of Staff, Sean Flaherty. Standing in the corner was an Air Force officer he didn't recognize, who was introduced as Major General Jack O'Neill from Dr. Kiel's staff. Villanueva couldn't help but break the ice with some humor.

"I hope, Mr. President that the presence of General's Maynard and O'Neill does not mean a turn in relations between the Vatican and the United States."

Hayes let out a chuckle. "Certainly not, however their presence is germane to the issue we need to discuss this evening." _Get ready for a mind-bender, Your Eminence,_ Hayes thought to himself.

Villanueva was now fully intrigued. "How can I be of assistance, Mr. President?"

Hayes directed everyone to sit and got to the point. "Your Eminence, the United States Government would like the assistance of the Vatican as well as others in preparing humanity for the release of some information that will cause both consternation and rejoicing. First though, I must have your assurance that the information we'll share with you and the Vatican will be held in the closest confidence and will be relayed only to His Holiness." Hayes had wanted to meet directly with the Pope but the logistics had precluded it.

Villanueva was now _really _intrigued. "I can assure you that I will relay whatever you wish directly to the Pontiff." _Another Middle East peace initiative I bet…_

"Your Eminence, approximately a decade ago, scientists working with our Air Force were experimenting with a device recovered by archeologists in Egypt in 1924. The purpose of the device was at that point unknown. Through exhaustive research and experimentation, they managed to activate it. In addition, they discovered that it was of an origin alien to this world."

Villanueva went ashen. "I'm sorry, did you say _alien_?"

"Yes."

The next logical question popped into the Cardinal's mind. "What's the purpose of this device?"

"Here's the kicker. It allows for almost instantaneous travel to other habitable worlds." _Welcome to the new reality_ Hayes thought ruefully.

Villanueva dove in head first as was his nature. "Your people went through, didn't they?" _God help us all, the Americans out on other worlds!_

"Yes, General O'Neill led the first team through to a world called Abydoswhich was populated by an enslaved human people. They were being used as slaves by an alien life form impersonating an ancient Egyptian god known as Ra."

"Ra, the sun god?"

O'Neill piped up. "Yes, Your Eminence. You apparently know your ancient mythology."

"I've studied enough General." Villanueva looked over at Hayes. "Why are you telling us this now? What do you expect of us?"

"Because, we're ready to tell the rest of the world and we want help in doing it."

"You need our help? How much more to this is there?" Villanueva could tell this had more layers than a cake.

"More than you can imagine." The look on Hayes face said it all. Villanueva felt an icy ball forming in his stomach.

_God have mercy on us._

Approximately three hours later the Nuncio emerged from the White House shaken to his very core and enlivened by the mission before him. He was also struggling to hide an anger building from within. _The Americans, British, Russians, Germans and Canadians! Good Lord! It's like 1914 in outer space! The Vatican will have to buffer things. The Muslims and Hindus will explode!_ _And those American Evangelicals!_

His aide, a Belgian Monsignor, had never seen him so worried. He hurriedly sat down in the embassy's car as it pulled away and headed for the chancery in northwest Washington.

"Are you alright Eminence?"

"Yes, François. When we return to the chancery, I will need you to coordinate travel plans to Rome. I will need to see His Holiness personally." _How is he going to take this news…?_

"Yes, Your Eminence."

_What have they done?_

Back in the Oval Office, Hayes was slumped in a chair holding a tumbler of whiskey and commiserating with the others. In a way, he thought, it was funny to watch someone's reaction when they found out about the Stargate Program. His personal revelry was broken by his Chief of Staff, Sean Flaherty. Flaherty had been with the President since he was a young back-bencher in the House of Representatives.

"Hopefully, the Pope will play ball." Flaherty had had his own thoughts about the program, especially how he thought it would blow up in the administration's face one day; forget all the hostile aliens who might invade. Flaherty was a traditional political animal. At the moment, he saw multiple pratfalls. Disclosure could lead to impeachment, anarchy or worse. The only good thing from Flaherty's point of view was the fact that both parties were in the know; if public reaction was wrathful, they would both be in for a pounding.

"Guys, we have to accept the fact that this _has _to go public at some point. It's gotten too big and I really believe it'll bootstrap us into the future. And when it does go public, we'll need the large religious institutions for some moral cover. I've got Walt DeWitt telling me that it could go either way. Some of his folks think it could lead to World War III."

Dr. Walter DeWitt was an experienced psychologist who had done work for the government for years, mainly classified profiles of various terrorist groups and political ideologues world-wide. About a year earlier Hayes had selected him to chair a highly classified study of potential events stemming from what everyone involved in the program in some form called the Big D: disclosure. The panel, made up of a veritable all-star team of doctors, diplomats, businessman and soldiers, were just now presenting some preliminary opinions. As to be expected, a consensus was elusive.

"This could _really _fuck us up. Not to mention these Ori assholes. Do you know how hard it was to get the IOA and the allies on board?" Hayes didn't often use vulgarity, but he recognized a rock and a hard place when he saw them. "Jack, you've been awful quiet. What are you thinking?"

O'Neill was sitting in one corner nursing a Wild Turkey and listening to Hayes opine. "Sir, I accept as most do that this operation is getting too large to hide anymore. Plus, we're at the point where we can make a case to people that we can adequately defend Earth. On the flip side, I keep thinking back to the tragedies we helped foment on a couple of worlds due to our arrival. Knowledge of the stargate didn't exactly help them. It's like that Greek myth, the _Sword of Domiciles_, hanging over our head."

Hayes looked towards O'Neill and smiled inwardly. He hadn't been quite sure of what he was getting when he put Jack in his current position but had been swayed by his vast experience and its attendant accomplishments. He had been expecting Jack to be a little more rough-hewn but was becoming more amazed at his ability to adapt. Hayes knew there were many in the administration who wanted Jack quietly in retirement, but Hayes wanted him around a little longer.

O'Neill let his thoughts run. "Ultimately it's a question of the secrecy becoming more of an impediment than a value. The secrecy precludes us from committing the types and levels of resources that we need to meet the threats and exploit our gains. If we continue waiting for the political and social conditions to be just right, it'll be the _New York Times_ or the _Boston Globe _breaking the story at the worst moment." Leaks were bane of most governments' existence.

Secretary Tallmadge piped up. "I'm not as worries as you about wholesale cultural upheaval. According to your reports, we're a little more advanced than those societies, plus we have made some friends out there. I just met with the Hebridan Ambassador the other day and they're excited about finalizing a technology trade agreement by fall. It's those types of things that will help the public realize the benefits."

General Maynard cut in. "That's all well and good sir, but how about the _Chinese_ Ambassador? How are they going to react to us getting access to more technology without them? Appropriations cut the SGC's budget and the Chinese start pushing the International Commission as an alternative. Our possession of the gate drives them nuts. It's a double-edged sword. Also, we're limited in the amount of troops and equipment we can throw at an adversary, both by current events and the secrecy angle. I'm sick of losing people to some of these interstellar Hitler-wannabe's who have a messianic side to rival Al-Qaeda." Maynard had been rattling to, as it were, _take the gloves off. _

Tallmadge shot Maynard and O'Neill an icy look. Eric Tallmadge was a diplomat of the Old School, one of the last. He would have fit comfortably into the pages of James' _The Ambassadors._ But behind the front was a political animal of the first order who always was aware of the changing landscape and where to position himself. He also saw opportunity when it presented itself. The stargate would mean a boon for the State Department and its prestige. Diplomats traveling to the far side of the universe! Tallmadge had ideas and plans, which included strong-arming the DOD out of the equation.

The Secretary of Defense felt the need to chip in with his feelings on the matter. "Part of the problem is the UN. We can't let them get involved with this. They're a dog-and-pony show. The Secretary General is corrupt. The organization itself is frozen in bureaucracy, morally bankrupt and it gives as much weight to regimes like Syria as it does the democracies. Can you imagine those idiots involved in this? The Europeans, especially the French, are in for a rude shock. They're just now finding out that the Muslims and a lot of alien races couldn't give a damn for their vaunted secular humanism and welfare states."

O'Neill grunted under his breath in agreement with the sentiment but otherwise kept it to himself. Jack wished George Hammond were here at the moment with his trademark Texas wit and pragmatism, but he was on a personal mission for the President, one that would help shape their future plans.

Maynard cut back into the argument like the career cavalry officer he had been. "With respect sir, that horse is already out of the barn and in the next county. We gave them that civilian oversight position Mr. Woolsey is sitting in. We beefed up the diplomatic presence. The Chinese aren't going to stop until the gate is out of our control, mark my words. By giving the Russians the _Korolev_ we bought time, nothing else. As for the Europeans, they need a fresh dope slap, as my son says. Many are cutting their defense budgets again even as they learn what's going on out there. Look how much trouble it was to get them to take over the Afghan stabilization mission! And we still need to address the Iranian issue and Darfur is another Somalia or Afghanistan waiting to happen. Now try to get them into a space mission! Let's put the gate in the middle of Brussels without an iris and watch what they do when the first invasion force piles through."

O'Neill nearly gagged on his drink as he tried not to laugh out loud. He jumped back into the fray. "Ultimately, it's a question of fairness. We're developing technologies and medicines that will revolutionize life on Earth as we know it. You've all seen the reports coming out of Nevada. How much longer can we rightfully keep such benefits from the world? We're talking about an end to Alzheimer's disease in the next two to three years. Most cancers can be eliminated in five to ten. A revolution in basic medicine and science is already happening. We're finding new things every week. And we haven't even scratched the surface out at Atlantis yet. They're still figuring out where the lights are, literally. An end to hunger in Africa is there for the taking. Colonization of other worlds. If we don't go forward soon, it'll be that much harder explaining why we waited so long to bring these things to the world at large."

Tallmadge ignored O'Neill and went at Maynard's arguments. "General, our European allies have important resources that will be needed as we go forward. We _need _them on board."

"Great, would someone please tell them that?"

A lot of the back and forth bickering was from typical personality issues. But hanging over the entire affair was a stark and actually humorous fact, at least from Hayes' perspective: the universe was a lot like Earth. It was made up of various states with different agendas, ranging from the benign to the outright genocidal. Their leaders were in many cases politicians of the same stripe that you'd find 16 blocks east on Pennsylvania Avenue. A smirk actually crossed Hayes' lips as he thought about it. _At least it makes it a little more manageable, _he thought. _I can play that ballgame if I have to._

Hayes watched the back and forth and decided to cut it off for the night. "Alright, we'll call it a night and pick this up again later. Thank you gentlemen."

As the room emptied, Hayes called out to Jack and beckoned him to stay for a moment. Hayes could tell that Jack had more to say. "Alright, spit it out Jack. I can tell that you have some concerns other than the Chinese."

O'Neill cut to the chase. "Sir, are we going to see that Presidential Directive?"

What O'Neill was referring to was at the moment a hot topic of debate within the Stargate Program. O'Neill, Hammond and the Joint Chiefs had been pushing for a new posture towards the emerging Ori threat. They wanted an official directive declaring that the Ori represented a clear and present danger to the security of the United States. The plague attack had confirmed that. This would free up the SGC and the DOD to take on more direct action missions against the Ori and the Priors. It was almost as close to declaring war the government went without calling the Senate into session.

"Dr. Regan and the NSC are finishing the document this week." Dr. Sylvia Regan was Hayes' National Security Advisor. "But, Jack, if I'm to loosen the SGC's leash, I need to see some concrete plans. The SGC and the Joint Chiefs need to think this through carefully. I've got to sell it to Congress and our allies. None of this 'me and five Green Berets shit' I also want to see more intel on this Lucian Alliance and their intentions."

"Oh, we have some ideas sir. The Ori are coming."

After O'Neill departed, Hayes was left by himself. He had devoted a lot of time and political points to his plans. Hayes was by nature an optimist in the best sense and he truly believed that once the truth was released, humanity (at least Earth's portion) would rise to the occasion. He had directed all of the government's efforts towards this goal.

Military transformation? That was a direct result of the program. The Department of Defense was making itself ready for the interstellar wars to come. Rapidly deployable Brigade Combat Teams (BCT), Air Expeditionary wings, and other innovations were the answer. One generally overlooked or unknown fact was that the new Stryker combat vehicle was developed to fit through the gate, giving US and allied forces a readily deployable combat asset. The Department of Homeland Security? September 11th wasn't the only reason that had come about. An increased push for science education and accountability in public schools? All of these things were part of an overall agenda to ready the United States for the coming reality. He needed to get the public and the world ready. Hayes had a plan and a vision. And it didn't involve anyone called Ori. The Tau'ri were waking up from their slumber.

What worried him the most though was the concept of an imbalance. The Stargate program was producing discoveries and threats at a pace that the current system couldn't process smoothly. Hayes wasn't in favor of a one-world government concept or any of that nonsense; he was too much of an American patriot for that. Hayes wanted the disclosure to be a moment of profound hope for the world. There was so much for the public to absorb however, that Hayes feared for the world's cultural and philosophical underpinnings.

**Fort Carson, Colorado**

**May 10, 2006**

The amazing part of it was that running with a full pack on came as naturally to him as walking down a city sidewalk was for others. Years of tuning his body like an Olympic athlete would do that. But Lieutenant Colonel Terry McNulty also knew that it meant he had to push himself farther every time to get a full workout. _But, _he rationalized, _that's the life of a Ranger. _McNulty was pushing on this spring morning at a 5:30 per mile clip. _Not bad for an old fart,_ he thought ruefully It was only 0600 in the morning but even at that early hour he could sense springtime in the Colorado air. Of course, if he wanted summer, he could plan a visit to the Alpha Site, Earth's classified base on an uninhabited world known only as P4X-650. It was currently summer time there. McNulty was jealous; a joint Marine/Air Force/Royal Air Force security detachment had that gig.

McNulty was feeling _really _good on this day. Unlike many others, he had a job that he loved. His job title sounded good too: Commander, 7th Ranger Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. The Rangers prided themselves on being among the finest soldiers on Earth and now that they had branched into the interstellar universe, there as well. McNulty just chuckled at the thought. It had been a long time since he had charged out of North Carolina State's ROTC program and had practically begged for an assignment to the infantry. Now he was charging through a glowing ring made by mysterious aliens so his men could fight and kill other mysterious aliens.

_Wrap your mind around that logic_.

The mandate of the 7th Rangers was simple. They were to conduct any missions through the Stargate as assigned. Namely, they gave the SGC a more potent offensive capability than it had ever had previously. The Rangers are the nation's premier light-infantry formation, with the ability to carry out almost any task. The mission of the Rangers is direct action, meaning they plan and conduct military operations in any environment. The 7th had to be ready to deploy anywhere through the gate within 12 hours of notification. One author had recently put it best:

_Give a Ranger a mission, and it will be done correctly the first time and in a well-planned, well-rehearsed manner. He may arrive by parachuting from an airplane, fast-roping from a hovering helicopter, or jumping out the back of a transport. The soldier will then be off and running. If the terrain prohibits running, the Ranger will swim, climb, crawl, rappel, hop, skip or jump with speed. He will cross rivers, move through jungles, scale mountain cliffs and assault beachfronts. This elite warrior will not be alone. His comrades will be there beside him, operating with the same expertise, intensity, and motivation. Both alone and as part of a team, soldiers will uphold the tenets of their Ranger Creed. _

These were the men who would challenge the Ori, Lucian Alliance or anyone else stupid or bold enough to fight.

McNulty continued running uphill as the sidewalk brought him closer to his home-away-from-home. The 7th had just moved into a brand new headquarters only one month prior. It wasn't a single building but a fully functioning compound housing everything the 7th needed to function independently of the other tenant units at Fort Carson. Fort Carson was also home to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, the 4th Infantry Division's 3rd Brigade, the 7th Infantry Division's Headquarters, 10th Special Forces Group and the 2nd Infantry Division's 2nd Brigade Combat Team. What few outside the program or the National Command Authority knew was that in the event of a major "foothold" situation at the SGC, these units would be tasked as the first responders.

As he approached the main entrance to the compound, he saw his Executive Officer standing there waiting. Major Eric Alderman was an experienced Ranger from 3rd Battalion who McNulty cherry-picked to be his XO. Alderman was dressed in the new ACU or Army Combat Uniform, which the 7th had just finished transitioning all their people to. The ACU was designed with a digital pattern for all environments. Atop his shorn head was the tan beret that designated him as a member of the Regiment.

"Morning Eric, you already run?"

"Yes sir. There was a call into the watch desk last evening. We're wanted at the SGC tomorrow at 0930 for a meeting with General Landry and all section chiefs. The Air Force just _loves _meetings" The tone of Alderman's voice showed what he thought of that.

"Well, if it's what I think it may be, you'll like this one. I'll talk to Henson today." Air Force Colonel William Henson was the SGC's Director of Operations, or in military -speak, J-3.

"They finally are going to loosen the leash?"

McNulty just sighed. "I think so."

**P7R-188**

**May 10, 2006**

The gate roared to life the same way it did on thousands of other planets. They had been here before of course. Their return was expected by the locals, who had taken to calling them "the serious ones" on their last visit. The inhabitants of the few small villages on this world were of a hardy farming stock. The village was typical of dozens of other pre-industrial societies in the universe. Small homes and workshops clustered tightly in a village surrounded by large tracts of cultivated farms. They had had all manner of theories as to what the large stone ring symbolized, none of which were near the truth. But they were a friendly people who had gladly welcomed the visitors last time. They had also told of a strange "mystic" who had come spreading word of a new faith called "Origin". The locals had listened politely and begged off, as they had a faith system of their own. What troubled the locals was the zeal of the visitor, who apparently was offended at the lack of interest in this new faith. The visitors who had returned were troubled by this as well since they knew who was peddling "Origin", hence, a return visit.

The visitors were actually SG-30, a British team led by Major Edward Graves of the Royal Army. Graves was an experienced operator, having served in the legendary 22nd Special Air Service Regiment at Hereford in England. His fellow team members were also SAS Commandos with extensive combat experience. They were clad in the standard camouflage of the British Army. The British now had three SG teams operating, two with SAS Commandos and one composed of Royal Marine Commandos. They had been impressive in their first few missions.

Typical of the current state of international affairs, the British were slowly becoming America's biggest ally within the program. It was only natural. The tandem of the US and Russia was a shotgun marriage, more out of circumstance than actual united goals. It was always easier for American officers and diplomats to work with their British "cousins" than with a Russia whose personnel and government had a distinctly different agenda and outlook. The US military had been training closely with the British for over 50 years.

SG-30 was no different. As trained and experienced as they were, they were still taken aback by what greeted them as the stepped through the gate. Major Graves took one look and without hesitating, reverted to his training. He used hand signals and gestures to direct his team members:

_Cover positions. Two right. Two left. No sound._

The four British soldiers used stealth and speed to take up defensive positions near the gate. Graves scanned the area with his SA80 rifle looking for signs of ambush or hostile forces but instead it was quiet, with only a slight breeze to ruffle leaves on the trees. What caused these professional soldiers to ready themselves for confrontation? The answer stood approximately 50 feet directly in front of the gate and facing it. It was a sight not seen by people from Earth in a very long time.

A man was nailed to a wooden cross and crucified.

And not just any man from the look of it, but a Prior of the Ori.

In addition to the obvious traumas brought about by crucifixion, it appeared that the Prior had also taken somewhat of a beating prior to his demise. The Prior was covered in his own blood and from the looks of things, had been dead for a couple of days. Flies and other airborne vermin fluttered about his corpse.

Graves found himself quite shocked by the scene. Not by the sight of death mind you. He had worked in Bosnia, Iraq, Afghanistan and various parts of the African sub-continent where such treatment of one's enemies was not uncommon. What shocked Graves was who was hanging in the air. A Prior of the Ori. He, like others, had heard of the mystical powers of the Priors and never expected to see one in such a state. An abused and battered state.

As Graves and his men viewed the scene before them, a village elder came out to greet them. Graves was desperately trying to put a name to the face. The elder strode to Graves and bowed politely. Graves returned his bow with humility.

"Sir, what happened here? Is this the work of your people?" Graves wanted some answers.

The elder simply shook his head. "No, my son. Three sunrises ago, strange men not unlike you came through the portal looking to trade as well. They also claimed to be explorers from a distant world. While they were visiting, the "mystic" returned through the portal. He wanted to know if we had changed our beliefs and would follow the one true way. When we said no, he became very angry and threatened us. The travelers told him he was not wanted and should leave. The "mystic" turned on them and killed one of them with his staff. They took him and hurt him as you see it." The elder didn't seem too sad over the Prior's fate.

"Where were these travelers from?"

"I know not my son, but they did tell the "mystic" that such a fate awaited anyone who harmed the emperor's soldiers. They also spoke to each other in a tongue I had never heard before. They carried weapons similar to yours and also wore a blended uniform."

By 'blended', Graves figured the elder meant camouflaged. Graves turned to his communications expert, Sergeant Tony Whiting.

"Tony, get the gate spun up and get me video and comm with the SGC. They need to know this."

Graves turned for another look at the recently deceased Prior and finally noticed it. He didn't know how he had missed it earlier.

"Bloody Hell! Hurry that comm link Tony."

Atop the cross holding the former Prior was a placard they had missed earlier. It was a small wooden sign with letters carved into it. Graves' language skills were rusty and he couldn't read it but he was pretty certain of what it was.

It was Latin

It said:

**_Animadverto Fortuna illorum quisnam vulnero Imperator Legio. _**

_**Imperiosus bows ut nemo**._

It was actually a pretty quiet day at the SGC, or so Lieutenant Colonel Bob March thought. A couple of diplomatic teams and SG-30 had headed out but other than that, it was calm. March was an F-15E Strike Eagle pilot who had converted to the F-302 program and served a stint on the _Daedelus._ He was now serving as a watch officer at the SGC while waiting for an F-302 instructor billet to open. March was aching for a cockpit but enjoyed the SGC. He was just settling in to review some paperwork when the Air Force Master Sergeant manning the dialing computer shouted over to him.

"Sir, we have an unscheduled activation. Off-world."

March jumped from his chair. "Initiate protocols and alert the defense team." The staff manning the control room drilled on these very situations nearly daily. Their responses were crisp and automatic. The iris shut, sealing the gate room from the incoming wormhole. A squad of Air Force Security Forces troops took up defensive positions.

"Sir, we're receiving audio and video transmissions. It's SG-30's codes as well."

"Bring up the transmissions."

The image of Major Graves soon appeared on a large video screen hung from the ceiling. The look of concern on his face was evident.

"SGC, this Sierra Gulf Three Zero, are you receiving?"

Lt. Col. March keyed a mike. "Go ahead Three Zero. This is SGC."

"SGC, we have a situation here. No hostile contact, however, we need an intel team and a linguist at this location ASAP. We're sending a video file now. Do you copy?"

"Roger that Three Zero. We'll start working it now. Anything else?"

"Yes sir. Please ensure the linguist can read Latin. How copy?"

"Roger that Three Zero." _Latin?_

March picked up a nearby phone and quickly dialed the extension for the Intelligence Watch Desk three floors down. A naval officer answered.

"Intelligence desk, Lieutenant Commander Ryan."

"This is Colonel March up in gate control. We have a priority request for an intel team off-world. No hostile contact. They're also requesting a linguist fluent in Latin. Can we do that?"

"Give us ten minutes; we'll get right back to you soon."

One hour later the gate on P7R-188 came alive again and more troops came out. The six man intelligence team was led by Major Pat Connelly, a US Marine. They took one look at the crucified Prior and knew they had a pretty good mystery on their hands. Connelly turned to Major Graves.

"Any idea who may have pulled this off?"

"The locals can give you the story."

As it was, the only Latin speaker the SGC could find on short notice was none other than Dr. Daniel Jackson. When Jackson heard what SG-30 had found he had practically raced the intel team to the gate room. He was now standing there looking up at the former Prior of the Ori with a somewhat horrified look. Major Graves wandered over.

"Do you know what it says sir?"

"Well my Latin is somewhat rusty. I haven't had too much time to practice it. We'll need to go back to Earth and run it through a good translation program and have a couple of scholars confirm it. However, I believe it says '_See the fate of those who harm the Emperor's Legion. The Imperium bows to no one.'_ In my decade out here I've never heard of anything called the 'Imperium'. We have run across a couple of transplanted cultures dating to Earth's Middle Ages who had working knowledge of Latin, but none of them would be capable of this and they don't match the description given by the village elders."

"Oh Christ." Major Graves knew what that meant.

Daniel just kept looking at the Prior corpse. "Yeah, we've got new players in the neighborhood. And they apparently don't fool around."

Daniel just kept staring at the prostrate figure on the cross. His mind was racing through a series of questions he couldn't shake. _What have we fallen into now?_ Daniel was left to hope that the answers wouldn't come at a heavy cost.


	4. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**ANALYSIS**

**May 11, 2006**

**Stargate Command**

**Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO**

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter sat back in the comfortable chair in her office and studied the video intently. In her left hand sat a large cup of lukewarm coffee. She found herself downing a lot more of it since her recent return from the R&D section at Area 51. As one of the first humans of Earth to travel through the stargate, she had seen quite a few odd things in the last decade. But wholesale crucifixion was a new one. Death on the other side of the gate was nothing new, but this was peculiar. She wasn't sure how to react. Obviously she had no great sympathy for a Prior but this was still pretty cold. She turned to the other two in her office, Daniel Jackson and Lt. Col. Cameron Mitchell.

"Remind me not to piss these people off Daniel." The idea of being nailed up there made her shudder with dread.

"That's the point Sam; the inhabitants didn't do this, as far as they tell it. They spoke of a small group of soldiers acting like one of our SG teams. We know it wasn't us; the description doesn't sound like NID or another Earth military. Even the NID or the Russians aren't that cold. Plus, the Latin angle is too odd. The Trust doesn't have the resources or a reason to cross swords with the Ori either. "

Mitchell spoke up. "I'm telling you, when we go public, the DOD should put together a greatest hits video. It'll be like _Girls Gone Wild _or _World's Wildest Police Chases. _It'll sell like crazy and fund another battlecruiser for the Navy or twenty more SG teams." Mitchell's sense of humor could be somewhat harsh. "What about some of our erstwhile allies like the Langarans, Jaffa or the Galarans?" He then answered his own question. "Well, they wouldn't be using Latin, would they?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, the only cultures we've run across who would know Latin aren't capable of something like this. Plus the crucifixion thing isn't really their M.O. I'd imagine the intel guys upstairs are scratching their heads right now."

Carter sat with her thoughts for a moment before piping up. "The question is, are these people we want to contact? Obviously they're advanced, judging from how they were able to disable a prior. But how they treated him shows some rather primitive ruthlessness. I know we can't expect the same value systems from everyone but… well you know." For once, looking at the video, Sam Carter found herself short on words.

Mitchell had other concerns. "I know it's a big universe out there, but if I were Landry, I'd be more concerned about one of our teams running into these guys accidentally and there being some type of _disagreement._ The last thing we need is another pissed off alien power."

Mitchell was giving voice to an almost unspoken mandate that was still developing within the SGC and the NCA. Even the International Commission was coming around to the thinking. It could be summed up in one sentence: FIND SOME ALLIES! Preferably allies who were politically and militarily mature and understood the Ori and Wraith threat. This thinking had recently resulted in an all-out diplomatic campaign by various State Department and allied foreign ministry officials to cultivate relations with planets visited by the SGC but not extensively worked. Hence the push to make nice with the Hebridans, Langarans, Galarans and others. Even the American, Russian and British embassies on Dakara had just gotten upgraded so that the Free Jaffa could be courted. In addition, the Asgard were coming around to ally themselves closer to the Tau'ri. The Cold War theory of realpolitik was apparently gripping the galaxy.

Past practices were coming back to haunt them. In the first few years of the SGC's existence, the laser-like focus on acquiring new technologies had led to a hodgepodge approach to meeting new peoples and governments. If a planet or culture was found to have advanced technology and was interested in sharing it, so much the better. If not, the feeling was, we'll get back to you later. The focus was now on slowing down and consolidating the gains already made. This was one of the many recent changes in philosophy brought to the program by General Landry. There were dozens of cultures looking to have a closer relationship with Earth, specifically the United States. It was now time to make it happen.

As Mitchell sat back and thought, he was developing the same pessimistic attitude that O'Neill was tackling. To Mitchell, the universe was like a really large John LeCarre novel, full of interests, operatives and ideas. There was the good, the bad and the ugly. The focus of the SGC was on integrating Earth into this environment against a tide of criminal motives and religious zealotry. The thought made Mitchell frown as he stared at the wall. _How do we counter the tide?_

**Samarra, Iraq**

The night was moonless, which helped them immeasurably. The neighborhood was trouble enough without being seen by every lurker brave or dumb enough to violate the local government's curfew, not that the Iraqi government had much control here anyhow. All the US and Iraqi forces that operated in this troubled city knew that this very neighborhood was currently beyond anyone's control unless there was some unknown god of chaos and bloodshed hiding here. Earlier in the day five local residents had been abducted at random off the street, tortured and shot, with their bodies later being found on a roadside nearby. One had even been found with a strange burn wound in his back. Whatever had been used on the poor wretch had blown a wide hole through his chest cavity and cauterized the wound. The doctors at the nearby Army combat hospital were at a loss to figure out what caused it. But that was a side issue to the powers that be on this night. There was work to do.

They had been planning this raid for two days, waiting for a more accurate intelligence report from their mole within the insurgent's ranks. He had finally gotten back to them to confirm the location, in this case a home within a dense and cramped neighborhood, from which the local insurgents had been staging their attacks. It was the type of neighborhood that screamed deathtrap. Now it was time to put the information to good use.

The job on this night fell to the men of 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division. They had gotten exceptionally proficient at this type of work during their preceding seven months in Iraq. The platoon commander, First Lieutenant Bryan Rolfe, was an outstanding young officer from Tampa, Florida. Rolfe and the ops staff from 3rd Battalion had been planning raids like this repeatedly. They were not taking anything for granted. In addition to Rolfe's platoon, another platoon would be assisting along with three tanks from the 1st Battalion of the 7th Cavalry or the 1/7 and Iraqi police commandos.

Rolfe was not in an especially good mood as the convoy headed out to the target. He couldn't show it but he was tired, tired to the bone. He missed his wife and he missed a quiet night of sleep, neither of which he'd find within a hundred miles of Samarra. Rolfe kept a smile on his face, if not for his sake, then at least for his men. The men of 2nd Platoon really and genuinely liked their commander. That type of respect was rare enough. The platoon had been training and fighting together for nearly two years. They knew each other better than many family members. This type of camaraderie and teamwork was a hallmark of the US military. Years of fighting terrorists and insurgents had done that.

Rolfe's platoon approached from the alleyway and was in position to enter the home. The building in question was pretty typical for the area. It was two stories of washed sandstone with a good amount of windows that were a cause of concern for the approaching team. One advantage was that in Samarra, people didn't go near the windows for fear of being shot. At the appointed time, Rolfe spoke over the tactical net.

"This is Shotgun Six, execute."

Two members of the platoon broke windows on the first floor and tossed in flash bangs, stun grenades design to disorientate and overwhelm the senses of anyone in a confined area. The entry team knocked in the front door and entered the house. The lead soldier immediately saw an insurgent on the floor reaching for an AK-47 rifle. Half a magazine from the soldier's M-4 carbine rifle ended that problem. The teams fanned out to their assigned areas. A vicious shootout developed at the back of the first floor as three insurgents made a futile stand against incoming fragmentation grenades. The resulting gunfight on both floors lasted approximately 10 minutes. A heavy volume of gunfire was exchanged among insurgent shouts of _Allah Akbar!_ Luckily, no American or Iraqi soldiers were wounded. Then things took a turn for the surreal.

"LT! You'll want to see this!"

Rolfe climbed the stairs to the second floor and turned right into what was probably meant as a bedroom. Debris and empty shell casings littered the floor. Sergeant Ramon Dominguez, one of Rolfe's squad sergeants, was standing with five other soldiers over the body of a large man naked from the waist up. That was not the unusual part that had the group shaking their heads. A PFC spoke up.

"What the fuck is that?"

Rolfe looked down at the man. He was big. 6'5", maybe 275 pounds. He had taken four or five rounds to the upper torso. What drew his attention was the tattoo on his forehead. Rolfe had never seen such a thing before. It was like an Egyptian hieroglyph that you saw in books. The man also had a large incision on his abdomen. The man didn't look Middle Eastern but like a light skinned African-American. Rolfe wasn't sure what it was all about but guessed it wasn't good. He could only shake his head and blurt out the obvious:

"What the fuck is that?"

What Rolfe couldn't know was that the answer to that question would shake governments and planets.

**Stargate Command**

It was a thing to behold, and that was quite the thing to say at a facility with plenty of things to behold. The mere presence of Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon, USMC was enough to silence the weaker willed and the insolent. From first glance, the casual observer would notice something well, _different,_ about the 43-year old Marine from Bangor, Maine. There was intelligence behind the hazel eyes that spoke volumes in and of itself. A confidence radiated from Glyndon that was hard to miss, even to the clueless. This was all the more remarkable considering the circumstances. On this day he wore the starched khaki shirt and olive trousers with perfect creases. On his collars were the shining eagles that denoted him as a Colonel of Marines. On his left chest were eight rows of decorations, the highest being the Silver Star, awarded for his bravery and leadership in Iraq.

Stargate Command was filled with the very best of the US and allied militaries, in addition to the brilliant scientific talent. Everyone, from SG team leaders to Security Forces airman to the service support troops, came from the cream of their respective crops and was highly recommended. All of this talent was used to shining and standing out in their fields. Into this pool of Type A personalities and talents strode a man with a Type A+ personality and an intellect as deep as the ocean. Glyndon's only known vices were Bud Light and the _New York Times_ crossword puzzle.

What didn't walk but rather stalked down the hallways of the SGC this morning was a 6'3", 250 pound career Marine who represented some of America's best qualities. Glyndon could part the crowd like Charlton Heston in _The Ten Commandments._ Glyndon had graduated from Annapolis twenty years earlier and had proceeded to have one of the most distinguished careers in the Corps. After commanding infantry platoons and companies, Glyndon had blazed through more challenges including Harvard's Kennedy School of Government. His ability to debate many a liberal, anti-military scholar (including a youngish visiting fellow named Elizabeth Weir) into submission had won him more attention. He had served at the White House and as an aide to the Secretary of Defense. If that wasn't enough, he commanded a Marine Expeditionary Unit in Iraq. That's where Colonel Glyndon's legend took off.

Glyndon's Marines had become the scourge of Iraqi insurgents in the Al-Anbar province through the use of various tactics to flush out cells of resistance. So adept were they with Glyndon leading them that Al-Qaeda sent a video release to the _Al-Jezeera_ television network. In it they named Glyndon publicly and placed a $3,000,000 bounty on his head. Glyndon scoffed at the threat and wanted to call out the insurgents' manhood on camera. Only an order from the senior commander in Iraq prevented him.

None other than the President called him the finest American soldier of the last 30 years. Teal'c thought he would have been a great First Prime, high praise for the Jaffa warrior. Upon visiting the Jaffa government on Dakara, he'd won over even the hardiest Jaffa with his bearing and manner. Jack O'Neill joked that Glyndon scared the crap out of him in a way Apophis or Anubis never could. He was polite, intelligent and ruthlessly scrupulous. And he had a new job that O'Neill called the toughest job in the universe. He was the SGC's J-2, Director of Intelligence. Simply put, Glyndon's mandate was to use all the tools at his disposal to identify any threats to Earth and her allies. The few alien officials who'd met with him so far had come away impressed with his intelligence and natural curiosity. They also hoped that he was up to the job.

Upon arriving to start his duties at the SGC, Glyndon had recoiled at the Air Force's somewhat freewheeling manner. Unlike some others, he actually respected the Air Force and its personnel. They had a different mindset and attitude that took getting used to. Once used to it, he found he could work in the environment. Glyndon felt that for all the SGC's successes, which were many, there was far too much fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants operating going on. Part of this was due to how the SGC came into being and its sometimes tenuous political support. The SGC had been cobbled together following the _Holy Shit, this is bigger than we thought_ realization of O'Neill's second mission through the gate. Glyndon saw a lot of _reacting_ to the latest issues and too little _preparation and acting._ Many of the people brought into the program in the years following its birth felt a similar discomfort with how things ran. Many felt there was way too much of a reliance on a small cadre of personnel, especially SG-1, to solve many of the thorny issues of the day. A big help to Colonel Glyndon was that he had been allowed to hand pick his staff. This allowed him to bring some of the best military intelligence operators in the world. With his staff in place, Glyndon had plans to deal with issues that were gnawing at the SGC.

Upon arriving at the SGC, Glyndon found that there was an over-reaching focus on the next great discovery over the hill. Even among the intelligence personnel there was no set plan for the future; no mandate or vision. He ruthlessly changed that mindset on the first day. Glyndon procured the image of a Navy SEAL who'd been killed by a shot to the chest from a staff weapon. It had occurred on a mission a year earlier. Glyndon had the picture blown up and a caption inserted at the bottom. It said simply: THIS IS THE RESULT OF OUR COMPLACENCY. It was then hung in the offices of the SGC's Intelligence Section. Everyone now knew what the stakes were.

It was with these events as the backdrop that Colonel Glyndon marched down the hallway to General Landry's staff briefing. And on this day, he was no ray of sunshine. Upon entering the briefing room his mood was immediately apparent to the others who were used to bad news flowing like a river. General Landry got the meeting started.

"Okay folks, we have a lot to cover including some important developments. First though, Colonel Glyndon has some information that just came in. Colonel?"

As Glyndon spoke, there was an unrestrained aura of anger. "Thank you sir. Earlier today we received a classified report from our contact at CENTCOM. Last evening a raid was conducted by the 101st in Samarra to flush out an insurgent group responsible for a series of abductions and murders. The raid was successful. The real news is what was found in the aftermath. One of the insurgent KIA was a Jaffa warrior. We currently have no information on what his purpose was, how he got into Iraq or whether he was alone."

The revelation hung in the air for a moment. It was stunning to all those in attendance. Sam Carter looked positively ill. And for good reason. It was the US who'd convinced the Jaffa that their freedom was possible and that the Goa'uld could be defeated. It was US and Russian soldiers who had died trying to help make that a reality. To now hear of Jaffa warriors assisting one of the vilest groups of terrorists on Earth was nothing short of a kick in the teeth. To the professional soldiers of the SGC, it smacked of betrayal. It was impossible to underestimate the stunning nature of this revelation and its effect on those in the program. Political backstabbing was one thing but this was different. The tensions between the US and the Jaffa had always been tenuous to a certain extent, smoothed over as they were by Teal'c and Bratac. Even Gerak's antics hadn't ruptured the bond. But this was different. This was direct interference in the internal matters of Earth. Wars started this way.

The State Department's official representative, Dr. Kathryn Mulhern looked over to Landry. "I've been told that the Secretaries and the Joint Chiefs along with General O'Neill will be briefing the President tomorrow. I can't imagine this will go over well. Hopefully this was a rogue operation and not a matter of government policy. We can't jump to conclusions on this. If and when we confront the Jaffa government, we'll need to have our ducks in order."

Mitchell snorted. "Whatever it was, there are a lot of people who are going to demand action. You can't let this pass."

General Landry spoke up. "For now, this information is need to know. When's the body being brought here?"

"It'll be here tomorrow. General O'Neill's office is arranging the transport."

"Okay, we'll deal with this issue in more detail later today. As for now, we have two major issues to discuss. First, as previously noted, disclosure has commenced. The Vatican's ambassador was informed the other night. General O'Neill reports that the Holy See has indicated a willingness to play ball. Things are moving forward and the timetable is being adhered to. So, we'll be entering a brave new world sometime next year." _God help us all…_ "Ambassador Mulhern and her staff will be dealing with all information requests and is in communication with the IOA. Plans are still in the works for a meeting of all the military chiefs for the IOA nations later this year. We need a consensus on the Ori threat, especially in terms of resources. But that's a discussion for another day. As for now, we have an interesting development on the Ori front. Colonel Henson?"

All eyes turned to Colonel William Henson of the Air Force, the SGC's S-2 or Director of Operations. Henson was a career fighter pilot who'd commanded the legendary 1st Fighter Squadron at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia. Henson was also widely respected by the ground fighters of the SGC, who knew he wouldn't waste their lives unnecessarily.

"Thank you sir. Yesterday SG-30 arrived on P7R-188 for a routine follow-up mission. The indigenous population had been recently visited by a Prior peddling the usual fire and brimstone. SG-30 had been back a couple of times and had developed a good relationship with them. Upon arriving on the planet yesterday, this is what they found."

Henson used a remote to bring up video images on a flat panel screen at the end of the conference room. "As you can see, the person mounted on the cross is, or rather was, a Prior. He had been like this for approximately three days. Upon questioning, the natives reported that a group of soldiers came through the gate and visited with them, much the same way our teams do. While there, the Prior made a return visit and wasn't happy with their lack of faith in the Ori way. Apparently the Prior attacked one of the visitors, who promptly disabled him and did what you see here. An intelligence team was dispatched to ascertain as much information as possible. Doctor Jackson accompanied them. Doctor?"

"Thank you. As you can see on the video, there is a placard placed above the body on the cross. Translated it says _See the fate of those who harm the Emperor's Legion. The Imperium bows to no one._ The most dramatic aspect of this is that the script is in original Latin. Throughout the SGC's operating history, we have come across a couple of populations with roots in Middle Ages Earth. None of these groups would have the technology or military skills however, to perform such an act. Our Historical Research Section is continuing to look into this, especially any mentions of mass disappearances in antiquity. There's been nothing so far but Doctor McCafferty is heading up the search. I'll be assisting as possible. We have never had any dealings with any planet or government known as the Imperium. As for the Prior and the methods involved, I'll leave that to Doctor Lam."

"We had the body brought to the Alpha Site under strict quarantine measures." Lam had no intention of bringing another Ori plague to Earth. "The autopsy obviously showed signs of significant trauma due to torture. The Prior was beaten badly upon being captured. Also there were the injuries caused by crucifixion. He was nailed to the cross in the traditional manner using large bolts to his hands and feet. Crucifixion causes death slowly by asphyxiation and dehydration. Both were evident in this case. This man died a brutal death. As to how he was disabled, that is more of a mystery. There is some damage to the nervous system consistent with a form of electrical shock, but it's still inconclusive. We're awaiting more lab tests."

Colonel Henson looked over at Landry. "Sir, the main question is whether we wish to look for these people and if so, how we go about. They did indicate to the inhabitants that they would be returning soon to negotiate an exchange of goods. The inhabitants also stated that other than their dealings with the Prior, these visiting soldiers were polite and culturally respective. We could set up a surveillance operation and await the return visit."

"SG-30 is still on the planet?"

"Yes sir, along with some of Colonel Glyndon's intel troops."

"Well, this started as a British operation. Colonel Preston, are your other teams up for this?

Colonel Henry Preston was the British Army's liaison officer to the SGC. Preston had been pushing to get his men more involved in front line operations. "Yes sir, SG's 31 and 32 are ready to go. In consultation with Colonel Henson, we'll have two teams in the village with the third concealed in an over watch position. In addition, we'll have some of Colonel Glyndon's intelligence officers and a diplomatic representative from Ambassador Mulhern's office. We've also coordinated with the 7th Rangers in case things get difficult."

"Good, let's hope we don't have any problems. The last thing we need is another adversary with the Ori bearing down on us. I am intrigued as to how they beat down a Prior. Let's take this _very _carefully. The torture bothers me a lot. We don't need this Guantanamo angle being slapped on us when we go public. I spoke to the IOA earlier and they're interested as well. Let's see how this plays out." The unspoken fact was that Goa'uld prisoners _were _being held at Area 51 for interrogation without any recourse. Many were a font of valuable intelligence.

Daniel sat in the back quietly biting his tongue. He understood better than most the need for allies with the Ori coming. But crucifixion? What type of people were these? And if these were transplanted humans from Earth, what did this say about humanity. So many questions needed answers.

**Washington, D.C.**

_Patience isn't a virtue, it's a job description._ That's all O'Neill could think every time he paid a visit to Capitol Hill. Today's visit was a briefing for the leadership of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence in their secure room in the Capitol. Despite his reservations, Jack actually had good relations with the committee's leadership. They were pro-SGC, which was a dicey proposition in certain parts of the government. Months of nearly-weekly briefings had allowed him to develop a good relationship with some legislators, including these very Senators.

Senator Robert Cullen, Republican of Ohio, was a former US Attorney for Cleveland and a devout Protestant. Unlike many of his contemporaries in the House of Representatives, he was well known as a consensus builder and a sage counsel to Presidents. Now, as chairman, he had an enormous amount of influence over the US contribution to the program. He was also the leading champion for revealing the program to the public. Cullen honestly believed that if not handled properly, governments would fall and anarchy could result. This was his number one fear.

Sitting next to him was the Ranking Minority Member, Senator Vincent Rigalli, Democrat of New Jersey. Rigalli was a classic New Jersey liberal. Cunning and deliberate, he looked on the program as either a boon or Pandora's Box, depending on what news O'Neill was bringing. Overall though, Rigalli saw the benefits of the program. Upon seeing a report out of Area 51 the previous week regarding a breakthrough in Alzheimer's disease, Rigalli had wiped away a tear, remembering how his mother had suffered in her final years. It was personal issues like this that gave people a stake in the program.

It was with this as the backdrop that O'Neill briefed the senators on the latest threats of the Ori and the Lucian Alliance.

"General, how are we currently monitoring the Ori's military build-up? What assets do we have in place?" Cullen was really worried about the Ori.

"Senator, currently we have at any given time 8-10 teams of special operations forces conducting covert surveillance on certain worlds. In addition, both the Tok'ra and the Jaffa have assets working in these same areas. We're coordinating as best we can to maximize our coverage. Our embassy on Dakara is coordinating intelligence exchange and operational coordination. The Tok'ra have been helpful with airlifting some of our teams onto certain worlds."

"But you've pointed out in the past how the Jaffa are more of a blunt tool than a useful force of covert operators. Have they gotten better at intelligence gathering? Do they even possess the desire to go in that route?"

"Senator, I agree the Jaffa have never been the most sophisticated operators in the universe. I also know that some within their government, such as Bratac and Teal'c, have been forcefully advocating a change of mindset among the Jaffa. But it's tough sir, countering thousands of years of ingrained thought. The good news, if you can call it that, is that the dual threats of the Ori and the Lucian Alliance are pushing them towards change whether they like it or not."

"I know that it's a tough row General. We had Ambassador Mulhern in here two weeks ago telling the full committee about the democratic government initiatives we have going there. They're a prideful lot aren't they?"

"Sir, after all I've seen, I'll never stop giving them the benefit of the doubt."

Senator Rigalli jumped into the questioning. "Jack, what's the latest on this Lucian Alliance?"

"Sir, we haven't had a lot of success penetrating them yet. The Jaffa have had some success due to the fact that the Alliance has a lot of ex-Jaffa warriors working for them. The Jaffa government is rightly concerned about these people and their criminal conduct. Nature abhors a vacuum and a group like the Alliance was bound to come out of the rubble of the System Lords. Before long we're going to have an even more serious run-in with these people. They're too dangerous and in their eyes we're sticking our noses where they don't want it. If it weren't for the Ori and Wraith threats, I'd consider them our biggest problem."

"I'm looking forward to seeing Doctor Weir in a couple of weeks. What is the latest from there?"

"The Wraith threat isn't receding anytime soon. We've been lucky so far, but we can't keep counting on luck to see us through. We've got the _Daedalus_ tied up out there for the foreseeable future. When the Navy gets enough ships on-line, we'll have a better force rotation. As for ground and air assets, our proposals for both you and IOA are being finalized. We need to bulk up our forces there. The good news is the scientific finds there are a gold mine. Our grandchildren will still be discovering things there."

"I didn't believe it until I read some of that Doctor McKay's reports. I really want to see Atlantis someday Jack. I just hope it's all worth it."

"It will be sir, it will be."

**UP NEXT: Tension erupts between allies and conflict becomes inevitable.**


	5. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Complications**

**Washington, D.C.**

The White House Situation Room is located deep within the bowels of the historic building. It contains some of the most advanced communications nodes in the world. From this location, the President and his advisors could monitor not only US assets but the latest in broadcast news and foreign government intercepts via the National Security Agency based at Fort Meade, MD. Jack O'Neill had been here dozens of times since becoming the Special Advisor for Homeworld Security. With George Hammond the new security advisor to the IOA, the job of briefing the President fell to Jack. Usually, the briefings here revolved around the normal issues such as troop deployments, the random histrionics of a System Lord or diplomatic overtures to potential allies. Jack didn't relish what he had to tell President Hayes today. He knew it wouldn't go over well. He was right.

"What! This had better be a joke Jack! Please tell me this isn't anything but misidentification."

"I'm afraid not sir. We've confirmed that the individual killed in the Samarra raid was a Jaffa. His tattoo identifies him as having formerly been a soldier of Cronus. He must have come from Dakara because he was in possession of Tretonin and didn't have a symbiote. A systematic search turned up two staff weapons, three zat'nikatels, a case of shock grenades and a Goa'uld pain stick. There were no apparent documents found with the stash. We have to assume that there is a communications device hidden somewhere. We have people in theater looking into that."

"Do we believe he was alone?"

"That's unknown at this time sir. We've had no other reports of unusual incidents or individuals who'd match the description of a Jaffa warrior. As I said, we have sent some additional folks from the SGC to Baghdad under a good cover story. I'm confident we can keep this contained."

"But why? Why would the Jaffa do this? What would they hope to achieve? I'm so angry right now, it's beyond belief. This is more than a stab in the back. This could be construed as an act of war! After everything we've done for them, this is unbelievable. Could this have been the work of Gerak, prior to his death?"

"That's one angle that we've considered sir. Gerak certainly had a different agenda than the more pro-Earth constituencies within the Jaffa government. I definitely think that's a possibility."

Dr. Sylvia Regan, the National Security Advisor was seated at the other end of the long conference table facing the President. She had been sitting impassively, listening to O'Neill's presentation. "But what is the purpose General? A couple of warriors assisting insurgents in Iraq aren't exactly a grave threat in a tactical sense." Regan turned to President Hayes. "I just don't see the point of this sir. Gerak loved to twist our tail, so to speak. Other than that, I just can't see what the Jaffa hope to achieve. Also, assuming this is the real thing, how did the Jaffa make contact with Sunni insurgents? You just don't walk into the Sunni triangle and say 'I'm here to help!'"

Sitting on the opposite side was General Maynard, who could barely control his own rage. He had a son commanding an infantry platoon with the 4th Infantry in Iraq at that very moment. "What's your take, Jack? Was this an official operation out of Dakara or a backroom deal?"

Jack leaned back in his chair and gave a moment's thought to the Chairman's question. He knew the answer had to be carefully thought through. He had worked with, fought against, fought with and bled with Jaffa of all types. They were proud and longing, no, desperate, to establish their place in the larger universe, like Imperial Germany in 1914. But they weren't stupid. Not as long as Teal'c and Bratac had influence in the government. _No, _he thought, _something else is at work here._ "I don't think this was an official operation, not in the traditional sense. There's another dynamic at work here. Either this is a leftover from Gerak's days or someone else is playing with us. But I think we need to communicate directly with the Jaffa High Council, Mister President."

Henry Hayes sat back and considered his options. The last thing he needed was an open rift between the United States and the Jaffa government. That would give the Russians and Chinese the opening they needed to extend their influence. The Russians had an embassy on Dakara and were trying to swing loyalties their way. So far, it was limited in scope and not finding much success. But a break could be the trigger. With the Ori, Wraith and Lucian Alliance gaining in strength, the US couldn't afford more trouble. Hayes had to believe this wasn't an official act. There was still a lot of murky backroom dealing going on. Like Russia in the 1990's, the Jaffa were just getting they're feet wet in the democratic process. He couldn't throw all that away. But he would get answers. Congress would go nuts when they learned of this. He needed a plausible explanation.

Hayes knew that just by looking at the pained expressions of his advisors. _We can't afford a falling out with the Jaffa right now. They're too important to fighting the Ori. When those monsters get here, the Jaffa are going to be the trip wire and the first line of defense. They have the technology and the numbers. It's their buffer that allows us to develop. And if we have a falling out, the Chinese and the rest of the IOA will just jump at the chance to make nice with them. The IOA wants to fuck us over. They probably put Gerak onto the idea. Christ, what a mess. Their stubbornness is going to get us killed some day. _

"General Maynard, I want an immediate investigation launched into this. I want to know how this man got into Iraq, who he was helping and most importantly, whether he was alone. If we've got more of these rogue soldiers running around in Iraq or Afghanistan, I want to know about it. It's bad enough we had them here in the states shooting it out with those Trust idiots."

"Yes sir."

"General O'Neill, I want you and Ambassador Mulhern to travel to Dakara. Have General Landry and Ambassador Elliott request an immediate meeting with the High Council. Show them the evidence we have but make no threats or demands. Request an explanation and express the seriousness of our concerns. We can't afford a full-blown rift with the Jaffa, but I do want answers."

"Yes sir."

"And Jack?"

"Sir?"

"I want to meet with Teal'c and Bratac."

"Yes sir."

**P6T-245**

The weather was gorgeous. In fact, it was better than that. This area of the planet had a relatively low humidity that reminded a couple of the men of the upper peninsula of Michigan. The landscape was a comforting mix of dense forests, rolling hills and some good sized lakes. They guessed it was somewhere in the early summer season, though that was only a guess. They were the first men from Earth to come here. And they certainly weren't scouting for a prime fishing spot. It had been a 25 mile march from their landing zone to this position, on the banks of a mountain stream overlooking the large camp. There were no trails and no native guides to help. The twelve man team had been holed up in two separate observation positions for almost two weeks. The view wasn't as good as the weather.

The twelve men didn't actually belong to the SGC but to 1st Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group from Fort Bragg, North Carolina. They were "on loan" so to speak, to the SGC. As it were, each had worked at the SGC in the past and was familiar with the program. That familiarity hadn't prepared them for what they encountered on this supposedly uninhabited world. The original intelligence had come from the Tok'ra, who'd passed it on to their allies. The Tok'ra simply didn't have enough people to check out every shred of useful information they received. Over time they'd developed a healthy respect for the covert skills of the Green Berets and had agreed to use a Tel'tak to ferry the team to the isolated world from the Alpha Site.

Until recently, Earth and her allies hadn't been able to gather much information regarding the preparation and training of Ori ground troops. The SGC knew from the reports of Vala Mal Doran that the rank and file troops were being drafted from societies that pledged their allegiance to Origin. But the Joint Chiefs needed more than Vala's descriptions and they needed details on the type of training and weapons these followers were receiving. Thus, special operations teams from Earth, the Tok'ra, Jaffa and even the Hebridians and Galarans were scouring the galaxy collecting information.

The operators watching the training camp in the valley to the south had seen this movie before, so to speak. On a much smaller scale in Afghanistan, Somalia, Sudan, Iraq and the Philippines they had witnessed extremist training camps where young men were taught to kill the "unbelievers" and to rid their known universe of such an affront to their "god". A lot of what they saw and heard was straight out of the standard Jihadist playbook. Only this was on a much larger scale.

They estimated that there had to 10,000-12,000 men training in the valley. The camp was massive in size, covering a large chunk of valley floor. The organization and logistics behind it were rather impressive they all thought. The camp was very regimented, with troops moving to different training areas at precise times during the day. That actually impressed the US soldiers, who knew that the Ori were new at raising armies. The scarier fact was that this was _one _camp among what had to be many more. The Ori were having more and more success turning various cultures to their religious fanaticism. How the Ori were having that much success was for others to figure out, they thought.

Staff Sergeant Ben Thacker watched the raw Ori troops with more than professional curiosity from his heavily concealed position. Thacker was wearing a ghillie suit, a carpet of artificial vegetation designed to let the wearer blend in with his environment. It was standard for all snipers and those on long-range reconnaissance missions. The twelve men of the team had been camouflaged in various positions since arriving. While Thacker was impressed by the Ori troop's organization, he was less impressed by what they were training to do.

It was as if they had stolen all of their ideas from the System Lords. They were training to terrorize, not fight. It was as if the expected to roll through the planets of the galaxy and scare everyone to death. The professional soldier in Thacker found it quite insulting. Their rifle, or what passed for a standard rifle, harkened back to the Jaffa's staff weapon. These people were thugs, nothing more. _They'd fit in at a madrassa in Khandahar_, Thacker thought. He'd seen some of the hardest fighting along the Afghan-Pakistan border in 2002-03. But this took the cake. These guys were scary stupid, as some would say. All of their tactical training so far involved practicing to round up civilians and marching around like Hitler's SS._ What a bunch of fucking clowns._ In their minds, they weren't preparing to fight equals. Thacker locked away that bit of insight for later. He knew that a clown with a weapon could still ruin your day.

Their appearance was in some ways straight out of a movie, bulky armor and dark, pointed helmets. It was one of the first things the SF team noticed upon beginning their surveillance. It literally appeared as if the typical Ori foot soldier had jumped out of medieval Europe and grabbed an advanced weapon. This was similar to the way the Jaffa had operated while serving the Goa'uld. It was an odd blending of advanced technology and thousands of years of tradition. Upon first glance, it never seemed to make sense, until one started dealing with the warriors and their regard for personal honor. But Thacker reasoned it scared the hell out of the more backward populations.

The level of their technology was another matter however. Whoever these Priors were, they've got some serious backing, Thacker observed. The ships that landed with personnel or equipment were impressive. These weren't some dumb-ass Goa'uld, but highly advanced sociopaths. _This isn't good._

Thacker watched as a prisoner was tied to a pole before a company –sized element of Ori soldiers. The apparent commander addressed his men and then turned to the prisoner. Without missing a beat he used a staff weapon to decapitate the unlucky soul. The men of the unit then bowed and were dismissed. Thacker checked his camera to make sure he caught the moment for posterity. _Good, _he thought, _the intel guys will want to see this._ As disturbing as the events were, they had a mission to complete. Thacker and his colleagues went back to their quiet vigil.

**Pegasus Galaxy**

"I know this may shock all of you but I'm actually looking forward to watching _Sportscenter_ and ordering a really good thin crust pizza, with a fair amount of pesto on it. That and a six-pack of _Samuel Adams _and I'm good to go."

Dr. Elizabeth Weir could only look over at Lt. Col. John Sheppard and smirk. She could never quite figure out how he managed to keep his sense of humor under the direst of circumstances. She had to admit though, the man had a point. She wouldn't mind a nice bottle of merlot and a good pasta dish. _I know the perfect place in Georgetown. _She missed home, especially her condo in northwest Washington. At least there she was guaranteed some peace and quiet. That was in short supply in Atlantis or any part of the galaxy.

Weir, Sheppard, McKay and Teyla Emmagan were aboard the _Daedalus_, taking the long trip back to Earth. For Weir and Sheppard, it would be a strategy session with their superiors, who were getting more anxious about the Wraith threat by the day. There was a growing amount of grumbling emanating from the IOA and from the military over how they were running Earth's most important outpost. There was also a lot of talk of increasing the military presence at Atlantis. The IOA and many of Earth's leaders had come to realize that Atlantis represented their best hope of bootstrapping Earth's technology into the future. It had to be held against the Wraith at all costs. Weir was in favor of an increased presence, as long as civilians continued to run the city.

For Teyla, this would be her first official visit to Earth. It would be an interesting one. In addition to representing her people before the IOA, she was scheduled to meet President Hayes in the Oval Office. This honor was in recognition for all the assistance the Athosian people had provided to the expedition in their time of need. There would also be discussions of the future of Atlantis and the Athosian's status as residents. Teyla expected to make a deal with Earth, but only if it was in their best interests. She knew she had staunch allies in Dr. Weir and Lt. Col. Sheppard.

Teyla looked over at Sheppard and chuckled. "You keep telling me about this thing you call beer. Hopefully I'll get to enjoy some of it."

"Oh, don't you worry. I know a couple of great bars in DC. Just the types of places you can have fun in and stay out of trouble, well, for the most part. I'm telling you Teyla, you're going to like DC. Elizabeth, you'll have to take her shopping up at Tyson's Corner or somewhere like that. Women and shopping is universal, I think."

"Just keep digging your grave smart guy. Any other stereotypes you'd like to conjure up while you're on a roll?"

Sheppard laughed threw his hands up in a mock defensive gesture.

Teyla turned to Weir with a look of hope. "I can not wait to see your country. From the way that all of you describe it, it must be paradise. No fear of the Wraith, no constant fight for survival. It sounds glorious."

Weir looked over Sheppard and smiled. "Would you like to take that one or shall I?"

"By all means, lead on Doctor."

"Teyla, we pride ourselves on coming from the greatest country on Earth. Every American will tell you of the pride we have in our way of life and our freedoms. But are we perfect? Not by a mile. I don't want you to be disappointed by what you, and eventually your people, find. America is indeed a wonderful place. We believe that any citizen, regardless of their station in life, can rise above their circumstances through hard work and achievement. We believe in certain rights that are sacrosanct, not merely ideas. But do we have some sort of utopia? No."

"We have poverty, racism and internal strife. There are rather stark political divisions that go to the heart of culture, ethnicity and class. In the last few years our nation has become more polarized than has been seen in memory. Protests, counter-demonstrations and outright hatred are not unusual. Teyla, you can't believe how big the divisions sometimes seem. Compromise is the first casualty on many occasions. There are so many issues facing us right now; it sometimes seems impossible. Many of Earth's nations resent us for our success. They look upon us as the bully, forgetting that many if not most of their citizens look upon us as a beacon of hope. The greatest difference between us and so many other places on Earth and in the universe is a simple fact: if you criticize our government or speak your mind, you know you won't have to worry about a knock at the door. See if the Genii can claim the same thing."

"Ultimately, though, for all our faults, we are the best place to live and people know it. I'll never apologize for believing that. I know John feels the same way. America and her laws and way of life are worth fighting for, even out here. Our diversity of thought, our creativity and our belief in making the universe a better place for our children give us a strength others will never understand."

Teyla looked at Weir and quietly thanked her ancestors for the day her people made contact with the humans of Earth. _These people are going to save, and ultimately change, this galaxy. Their optimism and creativity know no bounds. The Wraith don't stand a chance._

**Dakara**

The United States Embassy on Dakara was located not far from the compound holding the Jaffa High Council. Just as in many nations on Earth, the area was becoming known as "Embassy Row". The British, Russians, French and Hebridians all had their embassies on the same street, which had young trees planted along its sides. From here it was a quick and easy ten minute walk to the city center. Dakara, unlike many desert country postings, had an agreeable climate that the embassy staff came to appreciate. And after month's in-country, the staff was beginning to enjoy many aspects of Jaffa culture. The ambassador, however, wasn't enjoying it today.

Ambassador Patrick Elliott continued to stare at the communiqué and forced himself to reread it at least a half-dozen times. The contents were so shocking as to knock him off his feet. It had arrived 20 minutes earlier via diplomatic courier through the gate. It may as well have been a bomb for the effect it had on the ambassador and his aides. Elliott was an experienced diplomat, who'd climbed the ladder with tough assignments in Europe and the Middle East. He'd seen all sorts of shady backroom deals and covert agreements, but this was a showstopper. He turned back to his Defense Attaché, Colonel David Dixon of the US Air Force and former commander of SG-13.

"Dave, I don't even know where to begin. Why?"

"Sir, I'm speechless. I have to admit, even after Gerak's antics in sending those Jaffa to Earth after the Trust; I never saw something like this coming. It's an odd play. I can't see what they hoped to accomplish. I have a lot of contacts within their military and I never heard a breath about this. Even after Gerak's demise, when you would figure the rats would go scurrying for cover. I've got to believe this was one of his ops. It's got his fingerprints all over it." _But what if it's something else…_

"Dave, I can see you've got a thought at work. Spit it out."

"I'm just speculating sir. What if there's a third party involved? One that would like to see a split between us and the Jaffa? The list of potential suspects is large. The Lucian Alliance, the Russians, even the Ori. All of them could benefit from such a rupture. How hard is it to recruit a few stray Jaffa warriors for some freelance work? There are a lot of underused foot soldiers looking for something to do. It's like the old KGB after the Berlin Wall fell. The Russians are dying to sell these people advanced weapons systems. Look how upset they were when we won the contract for all that medical equipment. Add the Chinese and the French to the list. Everybody has a horse in this race."

Like the President, Ambassador Elliott wanted to throw his hands up in frustration.

Colonel Dixon's job was multifaceted. In addition to helping to coordinate US and Jaffa military cooperation, especially against the Ori, Dixon and his staff worked to help them purchase military and civilian items produced on Earth. This was especially important since the Jaffa were just starting to create their own industrial base in places like Chulak. This type of game was played by every embassy in the known universe. It had been going on since the beginning of diplomacy itself.

"Well, my instructions are rather clear. Mulhern and O'Neill are coming tomorrow and they want an immediate audience with the High Council. Luckily, O'Neill carries some weight with these folks. I can't wait to see how they want to play this. We need to speak with Bratac. Where's Teal'c?"

"Back on Earth at the moment. I'm sure they'll be grabbing him for this. I bet he won't be happy."

"You're a master of the understatement Dave."

**Coming soon: Tensions between the Jaffa and the US. The Ori begin to move. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: **Thank you to those who have taken the time to submit a review. It's greatly appreciated. The following was originally intended as part of a larger chapter; however, real-world commitments are keeping me busy for the next month or so. So I've decided to publish this as a stand-alone "mini" chapter. Please enjoy and review if possible. _

_Glennfiddich 12_

_**Cast2007: **You're correct that the SAS and other British spec ops groups use an M-16 knockoff regularly. They also use the SA80 as well, depending on the mission, environment, etc… Thanks for keeping on my toes!_

_**Hobbes87: **Good catch early on with my "Royal Army" mistake. Bad editing on my part. Also, thanks for the positive comments. _

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**PAWNS IN PLAY…**

**Pentagon**

**Arlington, VA**

The concept and reality of power is an interesting and multifaceted topic. There are many different ways in which power takes form. It's a fluid dynamic in all human, and for that matter, biological relations. Power can be exercised, lost, given up, regained or never obtained. It can be a force for good, evil or indifference. It comes in many forms and has many uses. Power can be soft in nature; the ability to bring others to a position through debate, consensus or influence. It can be hard in its truest sense; the possession of weapons, armies, money or control. Power and its possession or lack there of has been a constant throughout human history.

Adolf Hitler had enough power to get his way at Munich in 1938 but not enough to have his way in Russia in 1943. Saddam Hussein had the power to seize Kuwait in 1991 but not the power to hold it. Those were examples of hard power at work. Soft power is a much more elusive animal, capable of confounding experts and surprising people. Pope John Paul II lacked the hard power to challenge the Warsaw Pact militarily, but expertly used the soft power of his position to influence a democratic movement behind the Iron Curtain in the early 1980's.

Power many times works quietly. But when it does break into the open, it fails to go unnoticed. Such was the case on this day. Of all the centers of power on Earth, few match the mythic qualities of the Pentagon, home and headquarters of the armed forces of the United States. The world's largest office building; it's the nexus of the most powerful military force in human history. Sitting across the Potomac River from Washington, D.C., it's the 800 pound gorilla and 911 force of the US government. On this particular day, its leaders were well aware of the shortcomings of their power.

Deep within the massive building is a secure facility with an interesting nickname. The "Tank" is the secure command center of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the commanders of the individual military services and its Chairman, General Francis Maynard. The "Tank" allows these commanders to monitor the status of all US combatant units and communicate directly with all theaters. It was here that many key decisions regarding strategy were debated and argued. This day was no different, except that the circumstances were somewhat more unique. America's top military officers were learning how little some thought of their power and its place in the universe.

The man tasked on this day with delivering the bad news didn't relish his current predicament. Colonel Paul Davis actually wondered if in this case ignorance would be bliss. Davis had come a long way in the last few years thanks to the Stargate Program. An intelligence officer by trade, he had risen within the program due to his ability to get solutions. On this day however, he didn't have too many solutions to offer.

"As you can see from the video sirs, the Ori camp covers most if not all of the valley floor. From the reports of the SF team and the Tok'ra, this is the only camp on this otherwise uninhabited planet. The stargate is near the center of the camp as would be expected. They have a rather large infrastructure in place and our official estimate is a total force of ten to twelve thousand personnel with a small amount of Priors. We're using computer breakdowns of the footage to firm up those numbers."

"The video shows little or no hardened facilities of any kind. They are certainly not taking any of the traditional precautions used when in hostile territory. The SF team stated that the Ori ground troops put out perimeter security in the form of sentries and other basics, but that was the extent of it. They were not conducting longer range patrols into the countryside either. As such, they appear unconcerned about their force being so far into unknown territory."

"We have excellent positional fixes on key infrastructure throughout the camp. We have both still and video imagery of daily operations and training routines. Included in your packet is our analysis of current Ori training practices as observed by the SF team."

Army Chief of Staff General Michael Balderson looked rather unhappy at the latest developments. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the video imagery of the Ori camp. He had been quietly praying that this day would hold off a while longer. Balderson had come develop a glass-is-half-empty view of the Stargate Program. While he was happy with all of the technological and cultural advantages it could provide, he still retained the idea that it was Pandora's Box incarnate. Balderson wanted to believe that his children would inherit a better world because of the stargate, but he had serious doubts.

"Colonel, give us the quick and dirty on their training situation."

"This is actually one good piece of news sir. The observed methods of training were just plain _different._ They are not preparing to fight what they would consider equals from what's been observed. A lot of it is apparently similar to Goa'uld tactics. Straight shock and awe of the natives. They're not prepping for urban combat, defense-in-depth or combined arms as we know it. The team was quite surprised by this specifically. Additionally, they included descriptions of equipment and organization that match the information the SGC received from Vala Mal Doran. Colonel Glyndon and his people are developing a full analysis of Ori ground operations as we speak."

General Hume Kelley, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, looked up from his briefing papers. "Christ, this is their first foothold in our galaxy. We need to put a world of hurt on that camp. If they start setting up a bunch of these, then we're in a tough position. I wonder if they'll leapfrog like MacArthur in the Pacific or come barreling in."

The Air Force Chief of Staff, General Arthur Burrows, arched his eyebrows and directed his glance towards Kelley. "How do you want us to do that Arthur? We've got the _Daedelus_ coming back from the Pegasus Galaxy now. Even with her and the _Odyssey _and maybe the _Korolev_, we don't have the forces for that type of battle. We'd have to team up with the Jaffa and fight our way in to bombard the place. Even doing that, they could evacuate via the stargate before we were in position. That would also keep _Daedelus_ away from Atlantis for an extended period, exposing our people there to a Wraith attack and putting the IOA into panic mode."

"The IOA? Someone needs to remind the IOA that Atlantis won't matter if the Ori just kick in our front door."

Burrows stuck to his position. "I agree with you on the IOA Arthur. But the reality is bleak. We'd need a couple of your MEU's and a couple of Mike's Brigade Combat Teams for this type of op. With all of our Iraq troubles, you think the President will make the first public announcement of the program an occasion to ship ten thousand more troops to combat?"

General Maynard looked even less sanguine. "Doesn't matter anyway. It would turn into a ground fight and we don't have the available ground troops for that type of campaign or the logistical train to support it. We can't be sure what type of support the Jaffa would offer. Alright, let's see what options we do have. We'll need to get inventive with this one. Colonel, when can you be ready to brief the President on this?"

Davis developed a sudden lump in his throat. "Whenever I'm requested to sir. We have all the material ready."

"Okay. We need to see some options for this that don't involve leaving our asses in the wind. Also, do we have the gate address of this planet?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, that's a start. Where's General O'Neill at this time?"

"Sir, he's on Dakara with Ambassador Mulhern to meet with the High Council regarding the Iraq situation. They're scheduled to return tomorrow at the latest."

"The hits just keep coming."

"Yes sir, they do."

"What's the latest on the Brits and their Latin-speaking Prior killers?"

"Sir, as of this morning, there had been no reappearance. They have three SG teams, an intel team and a British diplomat with them. They requested a civil affairs team yesterday. They're apparently helping out the native population. Better agriculture through fertilizer, that sort of thing. General Landry approved and the team should be on the ground by now. I'm unsure as to how long General Landry plans to keep the operation going at this point."

"Well, we'll leave that to him. Hopefully we can meet these people. Killing a Prior tends to get my attention. We need all the help we can get. What else do we have on the agenda?"

"Sir, plans for your conference with the Asgard in two weeks. The agenda is being finalized. Also, as General Burrows stated earlier, the _Daedelus_ arrives today. Doctor Weir and the others will be going directly to Stargate Command before coming to Washington at the end of the week."

"Ah, the joys of being the boss. Those meetings are going to be fun."

"Yes sir."

Maynard leaned back in his leather chair and found he was staring at the video screen. It was showing the footage of the camp shot by the Green Berets. It got Maynard thinking about how the reality of the SGC's small wars had played itself out the last decade. The US had been lucky, damn lucky some would say. The US military had fought "small" in the SGC's proxy wars. Special operations teams, stealthy commando missions and the prodigious use of allies had been the order of the day. And it had worked magnificently. Many noted how it had played out much like the campaign in Afghanistan in 2001-02. The US military did in ten years what the Tok'ra couldn't do in 5,000 using a tiny fraction of its resources. _And don't think they don't know it,_ Maynard thought.

But now they were facing a foe that wasn't concerned about internal politics, rearguard resistance movements or annoying commandos. This was a kill-or-be-killed scenario, more in common with 1944 Europe than 2002 Afghanistan. Maynard realized that something had to give. There needed to be a change in how they thought of the stargate and how they would operate. Things couldn't continue as they were, not if they wanted Earth to survive this type of mindless hate. _We need to change gears. _Maynard began to think about it and out of this; a plan began to take shape. He just needed time.


	7. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**The Hits Keep Rolling…**

"_All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility. Its condemnation may be allowed to rest on this common argument, not the worse for being common."_

John Stuart Mill

_On Liberty_

**Alpha Site**

The view was worth the trip all on its own, or so thought Commander Mike "Capone" Riccitelli of the United States Navy. Riccitelli, commander of VF-76, "The Dead Eyes", had been on the planet training with his squadron and VF-45, the "Vikings" for more than six months. Both squadrons, made up of F-302A's, were slated to deploy with the_ USS Intrepid_ in the coming weeks for her first cruise as an operational battlecruiser. They'd be stopping at a series of friendly planets and "showing the flag" as it was to bulk the inhabitants up against the Ori threat. Staring out at the pristine and uninhabited landscape of the planet below, Riccitelli imagined that Siberia looked roughly similar, or North America before the colonies. Its untouched beauty made him glad in a way that he'd taken the assignment. _Nobody would believe this._ Other than the ever-enlarging facilities being erected by the US and other governments, the planet was devoid of a sentient population.

The governments of Earth had big plans for the Alpha Site. It was the first piece of real estate claimed as sovereign territory by Earth. The planet would be the cornerstone of humanity's first steps to colonize other worlds, although no one dared use the word _colony_. Apparently it had more baggage among certain people than a UPS truck. Much thought was going into how best to exploit the planet without any damage to the environment. They last thing they needed was Greenpeace on their case. The IOA wanted to minimize controversy when the program went public. Unspoiled wildernesses with a bounty of wildlife, Earth-based scientists were just now exploring its mountains, forests and plains. Much of it had not been seen. The military only knew it was uninhabited due to a detailed scan done with the assistance of the Asgard. In the meantime, it was home to the largest military facility outside of Earth. Millions of dollars poured in by the US government and the IOA had created an immaculate facility. Hundreds of troops, both American and allied, were stationed on the planet in addition to scientists and diplomats. It allowed troops to become acclimated to an alien environment without much attendant risk. For newer F-302 pilots, it was the perfect training area in which to master the aircraft without the distraction of civilian traffic or the needed secrecy.

Even an idiot would quickly realize that the mere existence of the Alpha Site would be a highly charged political football when the program went public. The word _colony_ tended to bring forth ideas of the Belgian Congo or British Raj in India with their attendant abuses of power and money. The supposed wise men of the IOA (Among them many Western European elites who thought of hard power as a thing of the past) lived in mortal fear that the reaction of the chattering classes in Paris, London or San Francisco would conjure such arguments from the political left, who could be guaranteed to complain about anything. If anything was going to kill the program, it would the leftists of Berkeley or the rightists of Moscow.

For Commander Riccitelli and his squadron, these questions were far above their pay grade, so to speak. They only knew that it was a great assignment. Frequent trips home made it much easier than a year on an aircraft carrier patrolling the Persian Gulf or the Med. Riccitelli had previously flown F/A-18F Super Hornets before being recruited into the Navy's F-302A program. He didn't regret it in the least bit. He'd grown up on Buck Rogers comic books and dreamed of the space shuttle. Now he had the best of both worlds. _Forget NASA, we're putting them out of business._

On this day Riccitelli was leading a four ship formation at 100,000 feet over the planet's surface. Both squadrons were flying a minimum of twice daily as their training peaked. The Navy had no intention of allowing the Air Force to be known as the best fighter pilots in the universe. The Air Force may have had a head start in the F-302, but the Navy was running hard to catch up. The resident Air Force squadron at the Alpha Site, the 376th Fighter Squadron, had been acting as the aggressors during the months of workup training. They didn't even call themselves pilots, but _naval aviators._ They were among America's elite.The reason for this intensity was clear enough. They were being briefed regularly on the latest intelligence concerning the Wraith and Ori. None of it looked good to Riccitelli and his fellow aviators.

Riccitelli activated his communication channel and spoke in cryptic phrase:

"Eyes, loose deuce."

On command, Riccitelli and his wingman went to a spread out formation, increasing the distance between them. The other two fighters broke off into their own spread formation. All of their movements were crisp and determined, born out of thousands of hours of intensive flight training. Each pilot focused on dozens of mental tasks needed to pilot their multi-million dollar fighter planes.

Riccitelli could only smile and think:

_Life is good._

**Dakara**

Life wasn't so good for some other people at that moment. The conference room of the United States Embassy on Dakara had a slight Tombstone, Arizona feel to it at the moment. On one side sat Jack O'Neill, Ambassadors Mulhern and Elliott, Colonel Dave Dixon and Daniel Jackson. On the other sat Teal'c, Bratac, six members of the Jaffa High Council and other Jaffa underlings. Needless to say, things were somewhat tense. O'Neill could barely conceal his discomfort with the situation, not the he ever really tried to conceal his feelings. Photographs showing the body of the dead Jaffa warrior killed in Iraq lay on the table; video images ran on a flat panel screen on the wall.

"Our government would like an explanation as to the presence of this man on Earth, specifically as to why he was assisting a violent and murderous terrorist organization."

Bratac stared at the photo of the warrior's face. "This warrior is unfamiliar to me O'Neill. You have my word of honor on this. The High Council would never dispatch a warrior for this."

Colonel Dixon just smirked. "You mean just like Gerak didn't send warriors to Earth to hunt members of the Trust?" O'Neill had asked him before the meeting to tweak things slightly for a reaction. Ambassador Mulhern looked as if she would suffer a coronary.

Bratac kept his wits about him. "Colonel, as you know, Gerak did that without the approval or knowledge of the High Council. Many of us have shed blood with the Tau'ri and would not do anything to harm that bond."

Ambassador Mulhern attempted to calm things like the experienced diplomat she was. "The United States is not accusing the Jaffa Government of any duplicitous act. We only request an explanation as to how this man came to be on Earth and what his purpose was. As you can imagine, this is a matter of serious concern to our government. Thousands of American, British and Iraqi soldiers have been killed trying to bring peace and democracy to that land. The presence of this warrior also represents a serious intrusion into the internal affairs of Earth's governments. We are concerned that he may not have been alone. If there are others, they need to be removed from Earth expeditiously."

"Ambassador Mulhern, I take this matter seriously, as do all of us. We will investigate this and forward all of our findings to your government. The Jaffa have no interest in the internal affairs of Earth's governments or in this place called Iraq."

"I appreciate any assistance you and the High Council can provide Bratac."

The discussions and faux denials continued for fifteen more minutes. Diplomacy dictated the pace. Ambassador Mulhern fully explained why American soldiers were in Iraq in the first place. Jack finally looked over at the assembled council members and let his thoughts out:

"How long will it be before your people realize we're not the enemy, that we want the same things? A universe free from the reckless hatred of the Goa'uld and the Ori. A better day for all our children is there for the taking if we're bold enough to seize it. Please consider that. It's all we want. These type of things lead only to death and sadness, two things I'm sick of."

As the Jaffa contingent filed from the room O'Neill beckoned for Teal'c and Bratac to stay. The doors closed with the two Jaffa sitting with Jack, Daniel and Ambassador Mulhern.

"Alright guys, the diplomacy is done, now lets get down to business. I can't possibly exaggerate how angry the President and our other senior leaders are. After all we've been through; this is a kick in the gut. This shit needs to get cleaned up now. Once politics gets involved, it could unravel quickly. Bratac, I'm not overstating this; when Congress finds out, there'll be blood in the water. Why was he there, and how did he get there?"

Bratac clearly looked troubled by the recent developments. "So far, we haven't dug up any leads. As you are aware, there is an ample supply of warriors looking to sell their services to the highest bidder. It is an unintended consequence of our freedom."

"Outside government you think? The Lucian Alliance?"

"Entirely possible O'Neill. They want to subvert us and they absolutely hate the Tau'ri. They think of you as interlopers with far too much influence and standing. Unfortunately, we are well aware that they have agents working among our people on many planets."

Daniel piped up. "We haven't been following that group enough Jack. The Joint Chief's are worried about the Ori understandably, but those guys aren't much better."

Bratac was hitting upon a point that even O'Neill had to admit had some teeth to it. Earth's current influence in the scheme of things far outstripped its actual power. Governments like the Jaffa had hundreds of ships and advanced weapons platforms, along with experience and the confidence of thousands of years of space travel and war. The United States on the other hand, was severely constrained. It had three ships, little actual experience and could only commit a tiny fraction of her resources to the universe at-large. In many ways they were interlopers, promoting a unique concept they called democracy and doing it with a child-like fascination of the universe. Many thought it bizarre while many others like Bratac thought it was the best thing to hit the galaxy in thousands of years. Some days it seemed that's how the local powers were lining up. It was the _The Tau'ri are great!_ group vs. the _We hate the Earthers _camp. Jack and Daniel were getting tired of it. Even Bismarck would have appreciated the irony; the universe was no different than Earth.

"We've heard that tune before. Christ, alright then. The President wants to meet with you in Washington ASAP. Can you both return with us?"

"Yes. We need to keep this from rupturing the alliance between our governments. We need each other more now than ever."

**Stargate Command**

They stared at each other across the divide that was the conference table. Its role as a barrier between them was probably a good thing at the moment; they were about to have a fierce debate. They had had some interesting debates in the past, many which had pushed each of them close to saying stupid things. They actually had a tight bond, forged over months spent dodging one major crisis after another. So, in general, it was just another day at the office for Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard. They were to meet with General Landry and his staff along with representatives from the IOA nations. O'Neill had been negotiating for months to get more assets to Atlantis. The discoveries being made there were worth the cost, he'd argued. Weir was highly suspicious. Although she had a lot of respect for Jack O'Neill, she sensed the military's interest in pushing her aside in favor of a combatant commander, preferably an American.

"We need to stand together on these issues. I need your support."

Sheppard stared at her incredulously. _When have you not had it? _"We've discussed this Elizabeth. You know I continue to support civilian leadership at Atlantis, but you and the others need to realize that the situation has changed. We _have _to hold the city. You know what that place represents to the future of this planet. Not only against the Wraith threat but in terms of science and discovery. I'm a professional soldier and I'm telling you now, if you want to keep that place, we need more boots on the ground there, as the saying goes. We've pussy-footed around there for too long."

"Oh great, let's make it another Baghdad!"

Sheppard rolled his eyes and shook his head. He'd heard this bullshit from some of McKay's science people. He had expected a more pragmatic approach from Weir. "Please spare me the catchy one-liners. You know that's not what I mean. The IOA wouldn't let the military take over anyway, so you can forget that. All I'm saying is that we're either in this for all it's worth or let's pack up and come home. It's not fair to the people we've sent there to ask them to risk their lives if we're not willing to commit our best resources to the fight. You're asking the militaries of the IOA to fight with one hand behind their back. That's both dishonest and unethical."

"I understand your point John, but our first settlement in another galaxy shouldn't be a glorified army base. That's not what we're supposed to be about. Don't get me wrong, I've come to respect the military a lot. This was intended to be an expedition of discovery, not an invasion or occupation."

"I agree with the sentiment Elizabeth, I really do, but have you taken a good look at the neighborhood we've moved to? It isn't Switzerland. We're up against a nation of people who don't want to kill, occupy or enslave us. They want to eat us! I'm a soldier, Elizabeth, and I've got an enemy I can see and kill. This isn't some poor villager with an AK-47 fighting for some cause he believes in. These are devils in every sense of the word."

Weir was standing her ground, even as she internally knew Sheppard was probably right. "John, I'm a diplomat. How do I go to these governments we're meeting in the Pegasus Galaxy and tell them we come in peace when I've got a couple thousand troops in my city?"

"I'd answer that by asking how you're going to meet those governments when you're on some Wraith's lunch menu because we couldn't hold the city. If you haven't noticed already, nearly every planet we've visited is in the process of fighting or gearing up to fight the Wraith. It's not like we've arrived into some interstellar Woodstock."

Weir just looked at John and smirked. "Where do you come up with this stuff? '_Interstellar Woodstock'_? That's original. Alright then, what do you think they are going to want to send?"

It was John's turn to smirk. He shuffled some paperwork in front of his chair and turned to face her. _That dress looks good on her. Oh well…_ "Simply put, more than you'd like and not as much as Colonel Caldwell and I would want. We've talked about it with Landry and General O'Neill. They're leaning towards a few things. Some air defense assets, surface-to-air batteries, that sort of thing. A good size infantry formation; who it'll be I have no idea. A couple of choppers to augment the puddle jumpers planet side. That would free up the jumpers for more off-world ops. It would also make helping the Athosians on the mainland a hell of a lot easier. I can almost guarantee we'll see some more special forces, maybe foreign units like the Russians or French. We've got some foreign operators now but not enough. Probably a larger security contingent and some military medical assets to help Carson out. Throw in some engineers and other support troops and you've got yourself a good force. Once the Navy gets its act together we'll get a steady rotation of warships to cover the city along with fighters."

Elizabeth went almost pale. "That would more than double our population! Are we ready for that?"

"Well, it's not as if we're hurting for space. That city could hold five hundred thousand easy. You know that. I don't mean to be crass but it's time we got off the pot and into business. I'm done being the _aw' shucks_ visitor. We either own the place or we don't."

Weir sat down and contemplated the turn of things. She'd never imagined events going on this way. To be honest, she wasn't really sure how things were going to end up when she'd agreed to lead the Atlantis Expedition. Now, if she managed to keep her job, she'd be leading a huge colony of humans in a far-flung galaxy hostile to most outsiders. She looked up at Sheppard with cold, detached eyes.

"They are going to push you out. You know that?"

"Yeah I know, maybe they'll let me sweep the floors."

**P7R-188**

Douglas Granville was trying to make the best of it. He really was, or so he told himself. As an accredited diplomat of Her Britannic Majesty's Government and its Foreign Service, and by extension, the planet Earth, he was doing his best to put on a good face for the villagers. They were certainly welcoming and friendly; open to an exchange of trade and ideas. Granville and the others had been there for over a week with no grumbling from the populace. He had taken to sitting during the evenings with the elders, trying his best to explain how the government and societies of Earth functioned. They were definitely a people unafraid of knowledge. They seemed to soak it up with enthusiasm. One of the SAS troops had even brought along his I Pod, from which he given a crash introduction to British and American pop. The small children just giggled at the music while a couple of elders shrugged, as if to say: _What the hell is it?_ Granville had chuckled thinking that was how many parents on Earth reacted to their children's musical tastes. It was amazing what a little _Green Day_ could do.

He had asked the SGC a few days earlier for a civil affairs ream; if they were going to be staying for a bit they might as well be useful. To his surprise the Americans hadn't objected. An eight man team had arrived and was helping out in a multitude of areas. The natives seemed quite pleased. A public health specialist was helping them to take steps to lessen the spread of some native diseases. It was the simple things that won over friends. Through such efforts alliances were born. Of course they were here for a reason. They were awaiting the return of Them. The Them in this case were what the wonks at the SGC were calling the Latin-speaking-Prior-killers. They were otherwise called the Great White Hope.

Major Graves was running that part of the operation of course. Granville was here to speak with them when the time came. Graves and his commandos were his protection. After all, they might crucify people besides Priors. Graves' men were prepared however. Two teams of SAS commandos were in the village. One Royal Marine maintained a watch on the gate from a concealed observation position. The other three had a hidden sniper's position overlooking the village. If the Latin-speakers got difficult, they had them covered with L96A1 7.62MM sniper rifles. Needless to say, they could reach out and touch someone. One even had the .50 Barrett rifle, one round from which would tear a human in half.

Granville didn't want it to come to that. It wasn't that he was some sort of coward but that he knew the stakes. Earth couldn't afford another enemy and desperately needed allies against the Ori. If things went badly it would be a disaster. _Christ, let these guys be friendly. _He had never believed in his life he'd find himself in such a situation. He'd joined the Foreign Service out of Cambridge expecting that he'd get to travel a little and see the sites. He didn't think the sites would involve alien life.

It was just after the lunch hour when one of the SAS men came running with a worried look on his face. It was Sergeant Owens of the SAS, one of Graves' men. He and Granville had been part of an ad hoc poker game two nights earlier. Granville had lost twenty pounds.

"Sir, our OP reports that the gate just activated. Major Graves wants you with him at the entrance to the village by the road on the quick."

"Hell, I'm on my way."

Graves jumped up and headed off at a run to meet with Major Graves. It was a short run to the road where he found Graves already waiting. The Major had the same concerned and pinched look that he seemed to wear naturally. Graves seemed amused when he saw Granville running to meet him. _I hope the little guy is up to it_ was all Graves could think.

"Thank you for rushing Mr. Granville, my OP tells me they fit the description. Eight armed men in camouflage with weapons. The OP reports also that they appear human, as far as he can tell."

"Well, that's a start I guess." He was more than a little nervous. _Don't let me screw this up…_

Granville, Graves and three SAS men stood near the entrance to the village. Four other SAS men were spread out in the village itself. Soon they made out the site of the eight visitors coming down the dusty dirt track. Graves' first impression was soldierly.

_My, don't they look confident…_

They were eight men, with olive to whitish pale skin tone. Each was between 5'9"-6'2" in height and seemed in good physical shape. They wore a uniform of camouflage that resembled the new digital patterns being used on Earth. One had a red stripe on the collar. Each carried a weapon resembling a rifle, black in color with some sort of optical site. One thing was certain: they looked _serious_.

Granville looked over at Major Graves and muttered the understatement of the year:

"Game time."


	8. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Passage to the New World**

"_Men of strange appearance have come across the great water. They have landed on our island. Their skins are white like snow, and on their faces long hair grows. These people have come across the great water in wonderfully large canoes which have great white wings like those of a giant bird. The men have long and sharp knives, and they have long black tubes which they point at birds and animals. The tubes make a smoke that rises into the air just like the smoke from our pipes. From them come fire and such terrific noise that I was frightened, even in my dream."_

_Ojibwa prophet _

**P7R-188**

Major Edward Graves had a dirty little secret, one that he had studiously kept to himself for many years. It wasn't out of fear of retaliation or social embarrassment but out of the lack of interest in explaining himself. He was a devout fan of American westerns. As a child he had watched many old movies on BBC. He had always been drawn to westerns like _High Noon, _which starred Gary Cooper, or the many John Wayne greats like _The Searchers _and _She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. _His parents, the educated London professionals that they were, were both a little bemused and horrified by their son's movie tastes. They would have preferred a little more in taste, like _Henry V_ or _Lawrence of Arabia_. As he had tried pointing out to them on numerous occasions and failing, it wasn't that he didn't like other genres, it was that he_ really_ enjoyed American westerns. His protestations fell on biased ears. His affection for that certain part of American culture was akin to coming home from college to announce he was converting to Catholicism from his Anglican roots. Some things just didn't change.

This interesting bit of information is offered because at this very moment Major Graves was having a distinct feeling of _deja vu_ related to those movies of his youth. The very thought that he was in a similar situation as Gary Cooper's character actually gave him an internal chuckle which combined with his training was helping to keep him calm in what was expected to be a rather tense situation. Graves and the others in his party had received immense amounts of training dealing with a first contact situation, but until one was in the moment, that training was theoretical at best, as General O'Neill liked to remind his teams on a regular basis. Normally, soldiers might blow off a General when they feel the need to pontificate. However, on this issue everyone at the SGC listened to him on this matter. He'd done it enough.

Graves and his men stood like Old West gunslingers as the newcomers approached. The silence was disconcerting. Most of the villagers were out in their fields along with most of the civil affairs team who were teaching them newer farming methods. Graves had already radioed the American major in charge of the team to let him know what was happening. He needed that eight man team back in the village soon. He knew he might need the additional firepower. He had to work hard to keep it from coming to that though. Things were bad enough.

The history of humanity on Earth was actually littered with tales of first contact situations gone badly. The very first foreigners to wash up on the shores of feudal Japan had generally been shipwrecked sailors. They were summarily executed. It took a United States Navy task force led by Admiral Matthew Perry in 1853 to put an end to that through the sheer power of persuasion and trained cannons. The first English settlers to the New World hadn't only brought Christianity and a fervor to proselytize, but smallpox, to which the native population had no immunity. Estimates are that by the 18th century, 90 of New England's Native American population had been wiped out by disease and war. Graves also new that in many cases the Ancient Romans' idea of first contact involved the sword, shield and spear, along with the rapid appropriation of real estate. If these men were somehow connected, then they had to play it safe. Graves had to weigh those thoughts against the reports of the village elder, who spoke glowingly of the previous visits by the Latin-speakers. _Let's play this smooth._

Graves, Granville and the translator, Dr. Timothy Falls, stood at the entrance to the village as the visitors approached. As soon as the saw the party, the newcomers began scanning the area for other threats and readied themselves for an ambush. Graves was impressed. _These guys are professionals. They're not overreacting and yet they are not taking chances or assuming anything. Good._

Douglas Granville turned to Dr. Falls, who looked somewhat anxious at the moment. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, this is my first time." Falls was a professor of history at the American University of Rome and a contracted consultant to the Department of Defense. It was only his second time off-world. He was nervously tugging at his pants. It was his way of dealing with stress. Falls had never been a soldier or diplomat. All that he knew of soldiering he'd learned seeing _Saving Private Ryan_.

"Just take your time and do it right. You'll be fine. Don't make any sudden movements however." _You fuck this up and I'll have one of the SAS lads shoot you. _

Graves interrupted Granville's internal thoughts. "Here we go."

The lead soldier approached and stopped approximately 15 feet directly in front of the Earth contingent. The seven other men were arrayed in a wedge formation and staggered behind him. The leader's eyes were not as disciplined as the rest of his movements. The soldier looked at the group as if to say: _Who the hell are you guys?_

Granville wasted no time and spoke. As he spoke he stood resolute and proud, as he knew he was representing a proud and ancient power. British pride and diplomacy was still a matter of standing. "My name is Douglas Granville, a representative of Her Majesty's Britannic Government of the United Kingdom, one nation among many of the planet known as Earth. I bring you greetings on behalf of the people of Earth." Dr. Falls wasted no time in translating into classic Latin.

The lead soldier had stared at Granville during his greeting, giving away nothing in terms of understanding. He either did not understand modern English, a rarity apparently in this part of the universe, or he was playing it close to the vest. Upon hearing Dr Falls speak however, an absolute and unmistakable look of shock fell over his face and those of his men. He stared at Falls as if he'd been hit with a cattle prod. Granville was beginning to wonder if Falls had inadvertently called the man's mother a whore. Just as suddenly, the man spoke his first words, not with anger but with sheer surprise and curiosity:

"Quam operor vos teneo nostrum lingua?"

Falls turned to Granville. "He wishes to know how we know his language."

The soldier's bluntness told Granville at least one thing. The man was not a diplomat by training. That could be both good and bad. A diplomat tended to look for ways out of trouble; soldiers didn't always follow that reasoning. "Latin is an ancient and noble language of our planet. It was once the language of a dominant empire on our world. It is still used by the classical scholars of many of our societies." Falls followed through with a crisp translation. He seemed to Graves to be getting a little more relaxed.

The soldier seemed a little confused but recovered quickly and faced Granville. His men continued to watch the area but were half-listening to the conversation. Major Graves listened but kept his eyes on the visiting soldiers. Each side kept checking out the other as if waiting for trouble. They were all professionals. They didn't know it but they were being watched through high power scopes by three Royal Marine snipers. The soldier spoke directly to Granville, his eyes never leaving Granville's. He spoke with the absolute confidence of a highly trained professional soldier.

"Ego sum Centurion Praxis Gaius of Proprius Operations Legio of Romanorum Atrox Exercitus. Meus men quod ego adveho ex orbis terrarium notis ut Romanorum Atrox. Nos saluto vos in nomen of Imperator quod Imperiosus."

Glanville waited for Dr. Falls to convert the languages from memory, not always the easiest task in the world, or in this case, the universe. "_I am Centurion Praxis Gaius of the Special Operations Legion of the Roman Terra Army. My men and I come from the world known as Roman Terra. We greet you in the name of the Emperor and the Imperium."_

It was now Granville and Graves' turn to look surprised. The soldier noticed it too. Granville's thoughts raced at quite a clip. _Roman Terra? Is this what I think it could be? Doctor Jackson and the cultural affairs people are going to go nuts! How the hell do I play this one?_

Granville decided to take it slowly, although a thousand questions were burning for answers. "Am I to assume that the title _Centurion_ is a military rank of some sort?" Falls continued with the translating. With this, a steady but wary conversation ensued.

"Yes, it is a rank of authority within our army. We use ranks to differentiate levels of authority within our armed forces."

"Yes, armies on our world do the same. In fact, let me introduce the officer with me. This is Major Edward Graves of the British Army."

The Centurion turned to Graves and using his right arm brought his fist to his heart in the classic Roman salute. Graves returned the gesture with the standard British salute; the right hand to the temple with the palm facing forward. Both soldiers sensed a smile cracking the professional veneer of their faces. Each could see the true soldier in the other. Some things were just universal. This was how good starts could happen. With this the Centurion picked up the conversation. He got to the point.

"It would appear that we both have many questions to ask each other. I will admit that we have never heard of your 'United Kingdom' but 'Earth' is a term we know well. We use it as part of the name of our world and as a generic term for the ground. I will leave the cultural questions for a later time. For now let me ask: what is your business here among these villagers? We have been visiting them of late and would not wish for them to be bothered."

_I've seen how you kept the Prior from 'bothering' them. _Granville had to put the thought aside. He had no idea what had transpired between them and the Prior. Their treatment of the Prior indicated two factors: advanced technology and a brutal attitude towards one's enemies. He was sure there was more to the story. For now, he needed to keep the soldier talking. Churchill had put it best. _Jaw, Jaw, Jaw is better than War, War, War._

"Major Graves and his men have been visiting with these people for some time now. We have come in peace and have offered our assistance to the villagers in agriculture and other areas. The mandate of the governments of Earth is to peacefully explore the universe and make contact with the inhabitants of whatever planets we come across. In many cases we have developed relationships of trade and cultural exchange with various governments and their citizens. May I ask what your purpose here is?" _Two can play the questioning game… _Glanville wanted a good feel for where these men and their government stood.

"Men of the Special Operations Legion have been tasked with investigating any worlds that we come across. We look for any threats to our world and pave the way for our government to open contact for whatever purpose the Emperor and the Senate deem in our government's interest. Like you, we come in peace to these worlds, though we will defend ourselves."

Granville wanted to smile but stifled it quickly. _Thank you for the opening Centurion Gaius! _The soldier had just given him the conversational 'in' he had been waiting for. "I understand from the village elder that some of your men had to defend themselves from a staff-wielding man peddling a religious belief. Is that correct?" For now Granville would not reveal that the SGC had the body of the Prior or previous dealing with the Ori. He wanted their reaction first.

The Centurion seemed both remarkably unfazed by Granville's knowledge of the incident and at the same time bitter about the Prior. "Yes, we had an unfortunate encounter with the scum. We were willing to part ways and not interfere but the villagers did not want him here. He refused our entreaties to leave and attacked us with his powerful staff. We were forced to defend ourselves. He committed a high crime by harming one of the Emperor's soldiers. We dealt with his crime in the prescribed manner as a warning to his cohorts."The Centurion showed as much sympathy for the now-deceased Prior as a ten year old would for the ant he'd just stepped on.

**Fort Carson, Colorado**

It was probably the most secure auditorium in the world at the moment. The building, along with all the others, was swept regularly for listening devices. It wasn't a matter of trust or lack there of. The stakes were just too high. On the walls hung the crests of some of America's most elite and honored infantry units. Regiments and battalions that traced their lineage back to the Revolution or the early years of the United States and had fought through the worst of major battles. Places such as Saratoga, New Orleans, Fredericksburg, San Juan Hill, Bastogne, Ia Drang and Fallujah were more than names to these men. They were part of an unbroken chain of tradition and service. It's something the average civilian never really understands or appreciates.

"ROOM, ATTENHUT!"

The command pierced the room and every single soldier rose out of sheer muscle memory as if they'd been poked with a stick. More than anything else, they were a disciplined group. That discipline would be needed in the coming days. Most of the men in the room had done at least one tour in Iraq or Afghanistan and understood the implications and risks of their current assignment. Each was a volunteer who'd devoted countless months and hours into crafting themselves into expert soldiers and warriors. They would now be called to a new conflict, one that knew no borders, mercy or rules. It was a conflict fueled by hatred and religious fervor and would be waged against the closest thing these men would ever see to gods. Lesser men would have buckled under the knowledge of the scale of the threat; not these men however. They were Rangers.

Lt. Col. Terry McNulty made his way down the side aisle of the auditorium at his usual pace, meaning a full trot. He was followed by the battalion's operations staff. Arrayed in the seats were the men of Alpha and Bravo Companies, 7th Ranger Battalion and their commanding officers, Captain Curtis Miller and Captain Sean Delahunt. Charlie Company had just come off alert status and was in stand-down mode. The 7th had been waiting for this day since its formation. Formed to be the SGC's rapid response force, the 7th would now be called upon to take the fight directly to Earth's enemies. For years the United States and other nations had been_ reacting_, now they would be _acting_. Many in the military, including McNulty and his men could only say one thing: Finally! If the average American citizen knew what was about to transpire in the auditorium, they would have been shocked. A new day was about to dawn for humanity and only 250 men in Colorado would know about it. The 7th Rangers would fight the first battle of the Earth-Ori War.

"At ease Rangers! Take your seats." McNulty took a moment to survey the room like a proud father. He'd handpicked most of these men personally; interviewed every non-commissioned officer and platoon leader. He had complete faith in these men and their abilities. The men in this room were the recipients of some of the best training and equipment ever devised. They were some of America's best and would be giving the Ori the shock of their so-called ascended lives. They knew it wouldn't be easy but that it had to be done.

"Gentlemen, the day has come for us to get into the action. It is now official. The President signed an official finding as of yesterday declaring the Ori to be a clear and present danger to the United States and the Earth at large. What does this mean? Simply put, if the Ori want the after-life so bad, it'll be our job to arrange their passage to whatever shithole they 'ascend' to. Hoo-ah!" McNulty referred to the Ori's concept of ascension the way some people described their one year old's bowel movements.

"HOO-AH!" The assembled Rangers let out a booming Army war cry. Some of the men in the room had family who were sickened by the Ori plague. They didn't need any help with the motivation. There would be blood and it wouldn't be human.

"Major Alderman and Captain Miller will be conducting the full briefing and delivering the op order in a few moments. I'll just give you a general overview of what has transpired and what we're going to accomplish. Now that we have been authorized, along with our allies, to conduct offensive operations, we're going to start hitting the Ori at the tactical level. We're going to be the biggest pains in the ass they've ever come across. We've started to develop good intelligence on their methods of operation and on their foot soldiers. You've all been studying that information the last week for a good reason. The Ori have begun to fan out from a central base of operations on the far side of the galaxy to convert the 'non-believers' to their way. One advantage for us is that they're going out in groups of fifty men with a Prior. That's a mistake we are going to capitalize on."

"We have received and confirmed actionable intelligence from an allied source that an element of Ori ground troops along with their Prior have arrived on P9J-737, a small industrial colony formerly controlled by the Goa'uld. The Asgard were kind enough to over fly the planet and get some high quality images of the area in question. The Asgard also report that their scans showed only the 50 ground troops in the area. In addition, Australian SAS troops are already on the planet and confirm the Asgard intel. They have begun forcing the native inhabitants to worship the Ori or be killed. This will be stopped. Alpha and Bravo Companies will deploy via the stargate from the Alpha Site and eliminate the Ori presence on the planet. At the same time the _Odyssey _will jump from hyper space and secure the immediate vicinity. At this point the Ori are only using the gate; they have no ships in the area. The _Odyssey_ will also be bringing a reserve force of Air Force, Marine and Allied troops. Air Force F-302's will be providing the air cover and any strike capability we need."

McNulty looked out at the assembled group of men and knew he didn't need to embellish the story. The truth was awful enough. "I won't downplay the danger in this mission. The Ori have shown themselves to be ruthless bastards devoid of any sense of mercy. There are no moral ambiguities involved here. We will follow the laws of war and our Rules of Engagement as set down but be advised; they most likely will not surrender or offer quarter. They intend to convert or butcher us and our families. They intended to kill every one of us with their plague. They've already done it to other planets in multiple galaxies. They make the Taliban look like Berkeley professors. Doctor Jackson spoke to all of you recently about his meeting with them and of the things they plan to do. We cannot fail. The consequences are too dire to contemplate. You're ready for this. This is Earth's first true taste of open warfare in the galaxy and they've selected the best. The Air Force has carried the ball for the better part of the last decade. It's now our time. Do your country proud."

**Stargate Command**

Elizabeth Weir read the briefing papers with her trademark intensity intact. It was just as Sheppard predicted, plus and minus a few details. Things had changed since September 11th and she could sense it, even if she'd spent a large chunk of time in another galaxy. It was readily apparent to her that there had been a lot going on back on Earth that she hadn't been made privy to. This bothered her, not because of a bruised ego or sense of betrayal, but because the people making decisions weren't fully listening to the people in the field. _Some things don't change _she mused ruefully. She looked up and stared directly at Richard Woolsey, the United States' representative to the IOA and liaison to the SGC. She'd had some rather good sized rows with Woolsey since coming to the program, but she also knew him to play fair, most of the time anyway.

"These commitments are guaranteed? Have all parties signed off on this?"

Woolsey looked nonplussed. He'd banged his head hard against a wall getting the IOA nations on board. The Europeans, as always it seemed, were skittish. The Russians were bellicose. It would have been funnier to Woolsey but the usual roles were getting more than annoying. The lack of understanding of the true threat by the Europeans was especially annoying. He needed Weir's full support and participation.

"Yes, it was quite an effort mind you. This represents an enormous commitment considering many of these countries just picked up the Afghan mission as well. They've got populations grumbling about that as well. This is as far as many nations can go short of disclosure, which will happen in the near future anyway. It's rapidly coming to a two-front war that we don't have the resources to fight or the international will to conduct at the moment. I can't stress enough how much the military capacity of the European Union has calcified in the last few years. They have a lot of good professionals but the political backbone isn't there. They've got Islamic terrorists attacking them directly but they quibble about fighting the Taliban. We're almost to the point of inviting the Chinese in on a military basis. We go that route and there's no going back. Up until now all the countries involved have been democracies. To invite the Chinese in opens up a whole new angle. To say President Hayes is distressed is an understatement."

Weir merely nodded at Woolsey's observations. She knew full well what needed to happen. Hayes had been direct about it in the past. Milk Atlantis for all it was worth and try not to foment an interstellar war. She and her team were being highly successful at the first part. McKay and the other scientists were advancing human knowledge ten-fold every week. Things were moving so quickly on that front that no one knew how they'd integrate the discoveries back on Earth without disclosure. Luckily, that seemed to be a good problem for the governments of the IOA. As for the second issue, things obviously were not as joyous. Woolsey had even privately told her of it. Many back on Earth were mad as hell over the Wraith issue. _You were only out there a day, yet you found an enemy that threatens our existence! _ It was simply uniformed opinion at best but that's all some needed. Woolsey, Landry and O'Neill had assured her that the President was extremely supportive and was in fact one of her biggest boosters. She took his statements with the required grain of salt. She'd find out how supportive President Hayes was in a couple of days in Washington. But overall, the mood was not good. Coming in conjunction with the Ori threat and the Islamic terrorist menace, many of even the most responsible and articulate were starting to see the possible end of life on Earth.

Weir looked over at General Landry, who'd stayed remarkably quiet throughout most of the meeting so far. She and Landry had a better relationship than the one she enjoyed with Richard Woolsey. Like O'Neill, Landry suffered from no grand ambitions to a higher office. He was content with job he was given. Many would see it as weakness. Weir knew better. "I can see from this that you plan to appoint a task force commander of flag rank for the military component. Where does this leave Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard? He's done a magnificent job under trying circumstances. He shouldn't be just pushed aside or forgotten about. He wants to stay on at Atlantis and he's been invaluable."

"Doctor Weir, you're absolutely correct that Colonel Sheppard has done his best under adverse conditions. As a matter of fact he's being awarded a Defense Meritorious Service Medal this week. I've become one of his biggest fans; however we'll need a more senior commander considering the assets being deployed. Not only is it required but our allies will expect it. We have a plan for him that we hope you'll sign off on." _And just how close of a working relationship do the two of you have Doctor?_ Landry had his suspicions but kept his own counsel.

"And that is?"

"We want to have him command all off-world exploration teams based at Atlantis. That would remove him from having to deal with the defense of the city itself and free him up to focus on the search for technologies and allies in the Pegasus Galaxy, which he's shown himself to be quite adept at. Obviously, he and his teams will fall under the established command structure."

Weir was worried she could see an elaborate trap being laid. A new commander at Atlantis would bring another struggle of personalities and methods. The strain between the warfighters and the scientific and diplomatic personnel was always there, no matter how well Beckett and McKay worked with Sheppard and Colonel Caldwell. Atlantis certainly couldn't afford another Colonel Everett loaded with opinions and preconceived attitudes. The US military had always been highly suspicious of Weir and her leadership of the Atlantis expedition. Her early years had been spent as a frequent critic of the Department of Defense and its policies. The Army in particular was highly antagonized by her presence. The Joint Chiefs had been strong-armed by the White House into accepting her, causing a few bruised egos and a fair amount of concern regarding the future of the SGC. Weir knew, however, that she had no choice but to accept the changes. They needed the troops and the expedition's capabilities would quadruple.

"I understand. Do you have someone in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, we do." General Landry just looked at Weir with a smile.

**P7R-188**

Douglas Granville was actually pretty surprised with how well the conversation was going. Doctor Falls continued to translate and was having good success, even with some arcane references by the Roman soldiers. The good news was that things had remained relatively calm. After a few minutes of discussion standing at the entrance to the village the two groups had agreed to sit down in the village to talk further. The village elders, who'd dealt with both groups, joined in the conversations. The discussions really hadn't gone farther than generalities, with neither side wishing to be seen as pushy or too inquisitive. There was a delicate line between being curious and being pushy and Granville was staying far away from that line.

"We would like at some point to meet with a representative of your government for the purposes of establishing formal contact between our governments."

The soldier seemed well-versed in the world of diplomatic discussion. He'd so far shown a good aptitude for it. "I will bring your request back to my world and present it to my superiors. I believe that they would wish to initiate contact with your people as well."

Granville could only imagine how curious they might be. The Centurion was keeping things close to the vest, so to speak. Granville only needed to look over at Doctor Falls, who seemed to be a boiling pot of questions, to realize that the folks back on Earth would have thousands of questions. Two unconnected planets using the name Earth? The Roman references and the Latin language? All of it screamed for answers which Granville wasn't going to get from a soldier on a strange world. He needed to move things along.

"I have a suggestion I would hope would be agreeable to you and your superiors. I propose that we agree to have representatives of our worlds meet back here in five days. This would allow us to meet at a location that both sides know well and which is secure. If you wish, both parties could have representatives chosen to travel to each other's world. Would your government be willing to do this?"

"Yes, I am authorized to agree to such a thing. As for traveling to our respective planets, I will convey your idea to my superiors. I am confident that they will be interested in such an arrangement. We will return to this world in five days."

With that the soldier and his compatriots rose. The soldier shook Granville's hand with a strong grip, that of a soldier. He then faced Major Graves and saluted, with the Major returning the gesture. The group then departed for the stargate, leaving as quietly as they'd arrived. They took with them more questions than answers. All Douglas Granville knew was that he had to inform the SGC as soon as possible. He turned to Graves.

"Get everyone together; we need to report back now."

"Yes sir."

Little did British civil servant Douglas Granville know, but his talks with a foreign soldier in a tiny farming village would change lives, governments and ultimately, history.


	9. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**All the King's Men and all the King's Horses…**

**P9J-737**

A pleasant breeze blew across the landscape, bringing with it the agreeable nature of fall. The breeze brought a welcome and comfortable chill to the air. It was crisp and lacking in any of the bothersome and exhausting humidity found on so many worlds. The leaves were just turning at the moment, revealing various shades of orange, brown and red in their full glory. It would remind anyone of October in places such as New Hampshire, Colorado or Oregon. Leaves had just begun to litter the ground with most still on their trees awaiting their time to spiral to earth. The sun shone through the changing leaves and cast a wide shadow over the landscape that was a mix of rolling wooded hills and valley streams. Fall has a cache all its own. Even though it's an indicator of the winter to come, many still see fall as an enjoyable transition, full of excitement and portending change. On this day however, the change and excitement weren't of the positive variety.

They could hear the screaming from their position on a bluff overlooking the small industrial city of approximately 45,000. It had been going on pretty much non-stop since their arrival four days earlier. It was taking an immense amount of self-control for them not to rush into the town and intervene. It was in their nature to prevent that type of suffering when they saw it. Such an effort would have been futile however, for there were only eight of them and at least 50 Ori soldiers, not to mention the attendant Prior. None of them were in the habit of conducting suicide missions if it could be helped. The time was rapidly approaching when direct action would occur. The residents only needed to hold out a little longer. The men of the Australian Army's Special Air Service Regiment were watching and bearing witness. Like many of their colleagues in the fraternity of special operations, they too had seen such barbarity in the past. Iraq, Afghanistan and East Timor had seen similar atrocities. They were universally sick of it. This level of inhumanity was nothing new to them, which in and of itself was sadness enough.

It was something most people failed to remember. They saw the uniform or the weapon, not the man behind the image. Soldiers are not soulless machines devoid of human emotions or concerns. They were husbands and fathers, most of them. What they were witnessing far from home was nothing short of a crime in a universe all too full of them. The thought that the universe was just like home in many ways was both comfortably reassuring and depressingly familiar at the same time. It was the most striking feature to confront newcomers to the program. Raised on fantastic tales and movies such as _Close Encounters, _they'd expected the universe to operate in an entirely different fashion, devoid of the same dark impulses that ruled many men on Earth. For many, the truth was a massive disappointment. It was a melancholy letdown born of dashed hope and natural enthusiasm for something greater.

It was in this vein that two of the Australians found their hushed conversation drifting as they maintained their vigil. Each was an experienced operator who'd traveled the world in the service of their nation. Each had worked with Americans, British and others from around the globe and was in no way starry-eyed idealists who had grand dreams of changing humanity's condition. They were too experienced and jaded for such lunacy. For them, it was a simple equation that many of their more "urbane" fellow citizens of the western democracies forgot. There was evil and someone had to confront it. Many scoffed at evil being so simple or so categorized, but these men had seen enough of it to know it innately. It didn't mean however that doubt didn't occasionally creep in to the equation. It was only natural, even to the most disciplined.

Corporal Peter Waite laid low in his observation position and mentally if not physically shook his head. When told of the program's existence upon Australia's entry into the IOA, Waite had been fascinated and awestruck. His first few missions, to worlds like Langara and Dakara, had been enjoyable and for lack of a better word, fun. Like many others, it quickly passed. It had been replaced by the sad and dogged reality that was the post-Goa'uld universe. It was a bad mix of Frank Miller comics, Rwandan-like hate and crass hucksterism. Spielberg and Roddenberry were no where to be found.

Waite had sat in a round-table discussion at the SGC a few weeks prior. A group of academics and military personnel were discussing the current state affairs in the universe. The best analogy or comparison they could come up with was postwar Europe in the late 1940's. It was a time and place of recovery and opportunism, of intrigue and jockeying for position with a lot of guilt floating around. The Jaffa were analogous to Europe's population: traumatized and in need of aid and direction. The Ori and the Soviets fit the same shoe, both looking to expand and dominate. What was needed was an interstellar Marshall Plan to harness and redirect the energies of the Goa'uld's former subjects. Unfortunately no one was in a position to create such a mechanism.

"Can you believe this shit? Fifty of these goons are terrorizing and controlling forty five thousand. What a bunch of fucking sheep. No wonder the Asgard look at us like we're morons."

Lieutenant Andy Mullins couldn't blame Waite for his observation. As the number two man on the eight man recon team, he'd studied the briefing material a hundred times. P9J-737 had been a longtime production facility for Jaffa hand weapons during the reign of the Goa'uld. In the post-Goa'uld vacuum it had fallen through the cracks, effectively forgotten by the Jaffa on Dakara and occasionally bothered by the Lucian Alliance. Earth-based personnel had visited on one occasion but not returned with the shift in attention to the Ori. The population had been under foot for generations, effectively emasculating them from resistance to aggression. Every man and woman has a point where they give in to the pressure; this population had passed that point long ago.

"Pete, I don't pretend to understand the amounts of suffering those people and their ancestors have suffered. It's like East Timor all over again. And I thought Iraq was a hole. Some places in this universe make it look like Bali."

"What have the Yanks gotten us into though? I love working with them but let's be realistic sir. First we're following them into Afghanistan and Iraq, obviously with good reason. Now we're fighting people from other planets who are 'ascended' or something. What are they gonna do for an encore? Storm the gates of hell or something? Is there anyone the Americans don't anger?"

"The foot soldiers aren't 'ascended', it's only their masters who are. Listen, I'll admit I'm no expert, but one thing is certain, the Americans aren't idiots. You've sat in on just about all the same briefings I have. You've read the same material. It is a lot bigger than just this. You didn't think it was going to be roses all the time? You know better than that."

"Oh, you're right. Let's just say I was hoping things were better out here than this. We have enough of this shit back home."

"There's too much of this shit everywhere. My sister is big in the anti-war crowd back in Melbourne. She gave me an earful before my first Iraq deployment. Claimed all we were after was oil and empire, that sort of thing. Pissed me off royally. I'd like to show her this and see what she thinks."

Waite smirked. "Amen to that sir."

Mullins, Waite and three other men were encamped atop the bluff, using all manners of surveillance tools to watch and record the actions of the Ori troops. They would then send video and audio reports via encrypted microburst to an orbiting Asgard ship. That ship would then direct the messages back to the SGC. This method of intelligence gathering was becoming highly successful, even to the advanced eyes of their Asgard allies. Even Thor had recently commented in his understated way to both President Hayes and General Landry on the Asgard's healthy respect for Earth's silent warriors and their discipline and endurance.

That discipline and endurance was being put to the test by the other three Australian soldiers of the team. During the previous night they had slipped undetected into the small city. Their purpose was simple: get a better view of their Ori opponents and find a suitable position to contribute long-range sniper fire when the time came. Captain Ian Leahy, like his men, had seen enough in places such as East Timor, but this was bad. Leahy and two of his team had managed to secure a poison within 500 yards of the planet's stargate. Unlike many other worlds, this planet's gate was in an industrial area due to its former role in the Goa'uld war machine. The gate was in a central loading zone approximately two hundred yards square and surrounded by factories and buildings. It was on the roof of one of these buildings that Leahy and his men had sequestered themselves. The position provided an excellent view of the surrounding area.

The butchering had gone on for quite a while. Ori troops would bring a group of citizens at staff-point and demand their allegiance to 'Origin'. Those that refused were shot, but only after they had been 'disciplined' to the Prior's satisfaction. In this case the men had various limbs hacked off one at a time, the screaming carrying out for the Australians or anyone else to hear. For the younger women, it was worse. Ori soldiers took their time raping the more attractive ones and killing the rest. Husbands were made to watch as punishment for their lack of faith. Children had necks broken in view of their parents. The smell of blood, excrement and burning flesh was everywhere.

As they watched, a boy of no more than ten broke away to make a run for it. An Ori soldier leveled his weapon and fired. The shot blew off one of his legs above the knee. The wound caused the boy to writhe and scream in pain on the cobblestone square. Blood began to puddle on the stones. The Ori soldier casually approached and swung his staff into action. With one swing he smashed the butt of the weapon into the boy's face, shattering it and collapsing his sinus cavity and airway. His parents watched in desperate horror as he gurgled and sputtered his last breaths.

Leahy was livid. Like his men, he'd hoped the universe was different. _Christ, these fuckers are playing by the fucking Taliban playbook. All they're missing are some Kalashnikovs and some burkas. I never thought I'd miss Afghanistan. What makes people want to do this to woman and kids? _Leahy looked down through his scope and saw the Prior, standing by the stargate with a knowing smirk on his face. He apparently liked seeing the unbelievers suffer.

Leahy had only one thought: _Don't worry you piece of shit, your time is coming. _

**Washington, DC**

For many, springtime is the best of all seasons to visit Washington. The summer heat and humidity have yet to arrive. The cherry blossoms are blooming along the Tidal Basin. To the locals it remains one of the best times of the year. Government workers, who spent their lunches during the winter sheltered in their offices, come out and walk the Mall and sit by the various memorials. There's a general feeling of renewal in the capitol city, even one so hard bitten by politics and its attached squabbles. The District can be a hardball city, but at certain times its charms come out into the open. This was one of those days.

For Teyla Emmagan, it was nothing short of wondrous. For her and her people, it had been years of eking out a life in small villages with all its privations. She was proud of the things her people had accomplished under threat of Wraith domination. In spite of all their troubles, they remained an open and mostly welcoming culture. One of her greatest goals was in making sure that heritage continued past her days. To her, the expedition from Earth represented not only a new power in the galaxy but an opportunity for her people to open a new chapter in their own tale of life. She looked at people such as John Sheppard and Elizabeth Weir and saw hope for a better future, if not for her, then at least for her people's descendants. That's all she and the other Athosians really wanted.

She and the others had listened to the stories about Earth with a crooked smile and a knowing look. They had met many a traveler in their day spinning stories of great cultures free of outside threat and intimidation. She believed she knew better. The universe was just too dangerous to allow that sort of thing. Even after seeing video and photos of Earth and its landmarks, the Athosians had been suspicious, figuring that Doctor Weir and her people were just trying to display strength in the strange universe they found themselves in and impress the Athosian people. She couldn't blame the Earthers for trying. In the Pegasus Galaxy strength, or the appearance of it, was a matter of survival. So many races and cultures there puffed their chests out like the Genii, when in fact they were just as powerless to the Wraith onslaught. Appearance was a tool all its own. If you couldn't be tough then at least look the part to others. There was a sense of helplessness in the Pegasus Galaxy that was pervasive. When she had been invited to Earth she figured that the truth would finally show itself. They wouldn't have the resources or the culture they claimed to possess.

That had completely changed with her arrival on Earth. There were no words to properly describe her reaction. It was visceral and real. The first days at Stargate Command hadn't been that surprising. She'd seen enough bunkers in her travels that it was a moot point. The politeness and deference of the American military personnel had been humbling. She was treated like the leader of a great power instead of the band of refugees that her people really were and she hated to admit. She wasn't sure exactly what the motive was. If she didn't know Weir and Sheppard and their people the way she did, she'd have been much more suspicious, not that she wasn't playing things carefully as it was.

She had arrived at Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington along with Weir and Sheppard. The VIP treatment had continued. To her, the sights and sounds of the capitol were beyond comprehension. She'd never seen so many people in one city in her life, going about their business without fear or trepidation. The normalcy was almost surreal. She had been shepherded throughout the city and shown the various sites and monuments. The amazing view of the Mall from the Lincoln Memorial had struck her, as well as Lincoln's own words to his fellow citizens. They displayed a hope and optimism lacking in her galaxy. People of Lincoln's strength and imagination were needed there to combat the darkness. Not only had the darkness of the Wraith needed confronting but the darkness of many people's souls.

The night before she had been given a private tour of the United States Capitol. It seemed as though the building itself radiated a chilly confidence. Standing in the massive Rotunda and staring up at the dome itself, she was speechless for one of the few times in her life. _These people are more powerful than they know. They have a sense of history and place but are not held captive to it. Their sense of their own destiny is almost scary. They are never satisfied. And I've only studied a fraction of their history! _The murals depicting great moments in their history made her somewhat jealous; her people needed to have the ambition to rise to such heights, not for power, but for a better life. Her thoughts raced as she viewed what the Athosians' new allies were capable of.

Teyla thought back to the previous evening as she rode in the back of a limousine with Doctor Weir and Lt. Col. Sheppard. She had sat through dinner with the Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, whose impeccable manners she found both comforting and a little disconcerting at the same time. She and her people were small fish in a large and unforgiving pond. Senator Malcolm Vandergrift had made various hints of great events to come along with all the usual platitudes, some of which she accepted and some that she took at face value. The presence of Doctor Weir, who spoke highly of the Senator, allayed some of her concerns. The charm offensive of the Americans was nice but she was waiting for the other shoe to fall. She knew that the full exploiting of Atlantis was the prize they desired beyond all else. She understood and accepted it, but she wasn't going to be run over in the process.

They were on their way to the White House for her audience with the President. She had spent the last few days preparing for it. She was well aware that this morning's meeting with President Hayes could very well set her people's course for the foreseeable future. She was no fool when it came to dealing with foreigners. It was in the Earther's best interest to keep her and her fellow Athosians in their good graces. By befriending the Atlantis Expedition in its time of need, something they would have done for anyone, they had found a friend and ally. So far it had been mutually beneficial; now she needed to keep it that way. Earth could bootstrap her people into a better future free of many of the issues that plagued it. Already, the advanced medical care being provided by Doctor Beckett and his team was extending the average Athosians' life by years. That alone made their alliance worth the effort.

The car pulled up to the White House, the passenger doors opening quickly. The United States Marine at the door snapped to attention and swung open the door to the building. Teyla took her cue from Dr. Weir, who'd been to the White House dozens of times in her diplomatic career. They were led through the grand house; all along Teyla tried hard not to gawk at the majestic beauty of the President's home. If the Capitol gave off a chilly confidence, then to her the White House gave off a distinct feeling of warmth and confident power. She wasn't entirely sure if that was intentional or a by-product. These humans continued to amaze her with their desire to impress others. Soon the party found themselves being ushered in to the Oval Office. President Hayes was standing in front of his desk along with Secretary of State Tallmadge. At the sight of the group, a warm smile crossed the President's face.

"Doctor Weir, welcome back. We're more than glad to see that the Pegasus Galaxy hasn't beaten you yet."

"Mister President, it's good to see you again. Allow me to introduce Teyla Emmagan of the Athosian people and Air Force Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, our military commander at Atlantis." Handshakes were exchanged and Hayes motioned for everyone to sit down.

"Miss Emmagan, let me first just say, on behalf of the United States and its people, thank you to you and your fellow citizens for the aid you have given to our personnel on the Atlantis Expedition. Without your timely assistance, it's doubtful that Doctor Weir and her people would have survived their initial experience with the Wraith or their first months in your part of the universe. From everything she and others have told me, you are indeed a great friend. Friendships are a precious resource and a blessing, one that this government and the others of Earth readily appreciate."

Teyla almost blushed at the words coming from the President. Weir had spoken well of him and she could see why. "Mister President, there is no need for thanks. We are the ones who should be thanking your government. Your assistance with medicines and health care and in defending us from the Wraith has been beyond our most fervent hopes. I only hope that our cooperation can continue and benefit both our peoples."

"That is the hope of this administration. We know that the Pegasus Galaxy is full of issues, most especially the Wraith. It's only through cooperation that our endeavor there will succeed. Atlantis represents much to the nations of Earth. It represents a part of our heritage we are only now discovering. The technologies found there will allow us to not only defend ourselves and our allies, but make life better for all our children. As I'm sure Doctor Weir has explained on many occasions, we're not expanding out into the universe to conquer or control, but to discover more about life and its mysteries. At the same time, we wish to acquire the technologies to defend ourselves. The Wraith are not the first aggressor that we have run across."

"Yes, Doctor Weir has told me of the Goa'uld and the Replicators. I also know of these Ori beings who are threatening many worlds in this galaxy. We have suffered through generations of Wraith culling. We survived it. After what I've seen, I know your people will rise above it."

"The Ori are a threat to our very existence. They wish no compromise and no peace except under the banner of their 'religion'. We have no intention of going quietly into the night, as Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard have been briefed."

Weir and Sheppard just nodded. They'd been informed of the Rangers' planned strike on the Ori force on P9J-737. Weir could see the writing on the wall of a more aggressive Earth, one that wasn't going to sit back and wait for the next threat. While she understood it, she mourned for a better day.

President looked over at Secretary Tallmadge, who picked up the conversation. "Miss Emmagan, what we'd like to see is a formalizing of our relationship with you and your people. A people can always use more friends and we are no different. You and your people stuck by us in our hour on need and we respect that more than you can imagine. In that vein, we have an idea for an arrangement between our two peoples."

Teyla just bit her lip and waited for the other shoe to fall. _Here we go; this is where the politics gets ugly. Let's see if they will live up to their ideals. We've suffered enough. Hopefully fortune had decided to be kind for once._

"The nations of Earth, acting through the IOA, intend to declare the city of Atlantis sovereign territory. There really is no interstellar law to guide us on this, only our principles. We intend to fully colonize the city and put its technological advances to work for all. As you are aware, the nearby land mass on which you and your people have taken residence is large. Our aerial surveys indicate it is nearly as large as our North American continent here on Earth. We also believe it to be rich in natural resources, although we haven't been able to fully explore it yet, let alone the other continents on the planet. With that in mind, would you and your people be open to an agreement that grants you sovereign possession of the continent?"

Teyla was stunned. She and her people knew well that the continent could amply supply for a large population over time. Such a situation would set her people on a sustainable path for generations. "Gentlemen, it is not often that you will find me at a loss for words. Is this offer on behalf of all your governments?"

"Yes it is. We have the approval of all the IOA nations to offer this."

"Would this agreement provide for mutual cooperation in defense of the planet? I of course speak of the various threats including the Wraith."

"Contingent on the formalization of a treaty, as part of any agreement there would be clauses for the protection of the Athosian people. We plan to exert sovereignty over the rest of the planet. We have no intention of leaving you or your people out in the cold. We would continue to offer protection from aggression and help in building up your own defense mechanisms to a level consistent with your resources and capabilities. In addition we would continue to assist to whatever level is appropriate in strengthening your health care system and infrastructure. We know that your people have been forced into a somewhat nomadic existence due to the Wraith. We wish to help you overcome that."

"And if our customs and laws don't match yours?"

"Miss Emmagan, sovereignty dictates that you are free to live by your laws and traditions. And from what Doctor Weir tells us, I don't think that will be an issue."

For Teyla, it was an immense amount to take in. What the Americans and their allies were offering was nothing short of a new life. Would they take it? "Obviously, Mister President, I would need to take the offer back to my people for their consideration. I can say, however, that the outlines of it should be extremely appealing to them. Your generosity and concern for our welfare is beyond words. I know that my people value your friendship immensely."

President Hayes smiled and let out a slight chuckle. "Miss Emmagan, that's all anyone can ever hope for in life. Secretary Tallmadge's staff will sit down with you and any representatives chosen by your people in the very near future to work on finalizing any agreement. I know that I look forward to one day visiting Atlantis and your people."

"We would be honored to host you Mister President."

With that, they settled into a few minutes of relaxed discussion over various issues, including the Wraith. Finally, Secretary Tallmadge escorted Teyla from the Oval Office, leaving Weir and Sheppard with the President.

"Alright Elizabeth, how bad is it really? Can we hold our own?"

"Yes sir, for know I think so. The lack of powerful allies out there is problematic. It's even more cutthroat out there than in this galaxy, if that's possible. There's very little cooperation to speak of among the various powers in that region. Some, like the Genii, have gone very militaristic and hostile. Others are rolling over and accepting their lot. It's not a good situation. I'll let Colonel Sheppard speak to the military circumstances."

Sheppard shifted in his seat and looked directly at President Hayes. "Sir, the reinforcements we're being promised are a godsend. Right now, we hardly have the resources to defend ourselves adequately against this type of threat. Even with the _Daedelus,_ we're facing a numbers and capabilities crunch. It's akin to siege warfare; we're in a fixed position surrounded by mobile enemies. We can't project much power outside of our immediate area. Doctor Weir is right. The locals are a mixed bag of trouble for the most part."

"Well, we fought the allies tooth and nail to get the resources and personnel there. If we weren't planning disclosure, we wouldn't have gotten as much as we did. You've both done an exemplary job under incredible circumstances. Things are starting to move. We have the operation against the Ori kicking off tomorrow. It's a small operation but I want it to give the Ori some pause; let them reconsider the path their on. If they continue, well, we'll just have to play it by ear. We're done playing with one hand behind our back though. That goes for the Wraith as well."

**P9J-737**

The Prior and his troops went about their business the following afternoon unaware of what was taking place around them. For them, the effort to convert the local citizenry to Origin continued unabated. It was a tough effort, but a necessary one they reasoned. The Prior was disturbed at the number of people refusing, even after seeing the consequences, to convert to the one true faith. This troubled him greatly. What would have troubled him even more was that he was about to be visited by the United States military.

High above the planet, a bright flash erupted in space, invisible to those on the ground. Out of this flash came forth the _Odyssey _to begin Phase One of Operation Heavyweight, the first operation of the Earth-Ori War. The _Odyssey_ moved quickly out of hyperspace and took up position over the planet. Speed was critical to the success of the operation. They couldn't wait for an Ori ship to show up.

Colonel Paul Emerson and his crew had been rehearsing this mission for over a week. "CIC, raise shields and activate point defense systems. Radar, any contacts?"

"Negative sir, the skies are clear. Threat board clear."

"Helm, take us into standard orbit over the target location."

"Standard orbit, yes sir."

"Air Boss, launch the alert fighters."

"Yes sir."

With that order, eight Air Force F-302's scrambled from Odyssey's launch bay. They were armed with a mix of air-to-air and air-to-ground ordinance. The Air Force wasn't taking any chances that an Ori ship wouldn't show up.

"Comm, signal the Alpha Site with the go code. Inform them we are in position with fighters airborne. No sign of Ori ships. They may commence the assault at any time."

"Yes sir."

At the Alpha Site, men and material stood by waiting for the order to initiate the attack. The previous 36 hours had been a non-stop frenzy of preparation and planning. Like so many other moments in history, men waited to fling themselves at an enemy. Approximately 250 men of Alpha and Bravo Companies of the 7th Ranger Battalion stared out at the dormant stargate with a look of utter focus. They were outfitted in full combat garb; their faces painted as black as night. They had been updated earlier in the day with the latest intelligence from the Australian SAS team. A wave of revulsion and purpose had spread through the two companies. It formed into one solid thought: _Not on my watch!_ They were ready and they had a mission to save lives. No petty Prior would stand in their way. There was an enemy they could kill.

Lt. Col. McNulty strode past the rows of waiting Rangers to the platform in front of the gate. He turned and faced his men. "We've received the go order. The _Odyssey_ is in place and we have control of the air and space. I look at you and I know I've never been prouder to go into action with a group of soldiers. You're ready for this in every way. You are America's best. Let's get this done and save some lives!" McNulty looked at the gate control room. "Activate the gate!"

With that the dialing sequence began. On the planet itself, the gate came to life and surprised the few Ori soldiers standing by it. They weren't expecting any reinforcements today, nor was any communication expected. Soon, the gate roared to life with an active wormhole. The seven Ori soldiers just stared blankly waiting for someone to come through. It was probably a resident of the planet returning from a trip. It had already occurred once during their mission.

Seconds later, eight small metallic canisters came out of the wormhole and bounced to various locations within 30 feet of the gate. The Ori soldiers were perplexed; they'd never seen such things before. After a few seconds passed, the canisters started to release a thick grey smoke which began to shroud a large part of the square. At that moment, the soldiers began to panic. Their panic, and their lives, was soon short lived. Out of the wormhole and thrown to various distances were ten M67 fragmentation grenades. Each had a maximum effective range of 60 feet. The resulting detonations blew all seven Ori soldiers into pieces no larger than an arm. The explosions were loud and heard for some distance. With that, the Rangers' assault began.

The sound of the exploding grenades was the signal that Captain Leahy and Australian commandos had been waiting for. Each was in position with a Barrett .50 caliber long range sniper rifle. The three men carefully selected a target and began firing. The first Ori soldier hit had just walked out of a factory building with two of his colleagues when his torso exploded into red mist. The site shocked his fellow soldiers, who had no idea what caused it. They'd never experienced long range rifle fire before. Before they could react, a second soldier standing in the street was torn in two at the waist by a heavy .50 cal. round. With this, panic began to set in among the Ori troops, who had no idea what was occurring.

At the gate, the first platoon of Rangers had come through and established a foothold on the gate itself. Two heavy M-240B machine guns were positioned on either side of the gate. Alpha Company's First Platoon was tasked with holding the gate, no matter what. As this was happening, more Rangers began to stream out of the gate and proceeded to their pre-planned rally points. Alpha Company's men were tasked with securing not only the gate but the surrounding blocks nearest the square. So far, no additional Ori had been encountered in the area of the square. This concerned Lt. Col. McNulty upon his arrival. He turned to the Air Force Combat Controller with the command element.

"Get me the Odyssey on the horn now!"

"Yes sir." Seconds later he had them.

"Odyssey, this is Ranger Six Actual. We've secured the gate. We've encountered little Ori presence in the immediate area. Can you scan for their location? Over."

"_Stand by Ranger Six Actual. We're processing it now_."

"Copy, standing by."

Moments later, McNulty got the news he was waiting for. "_Ranger Six Actual, we show a large grouping of approximately 30 Ori forming up in another square almost 6 blocks east of your location. It appears they're onto you and are preparing to move to your location via Bravo Company's avenue of approach. The others are dispersed in the adjacent area. No sign of the Prior yet. How copy?_"

"Ranger Six Actual copies, out." McNulty turned to his communications team. "Get me Captain Delahunt."

Soon McNulty was warning his subordinate of the threat coming his way. Delahunt and Bravo Company had advanced almost three blocks east unopposed. That was about to change. "Ranger One Two, you've got about thirty hostiles three blocks east of your position and they're coming your way If possible, set up a blocking position and an ambush. Let 'em come to you. Over."

"_Roger that sir, we'll be ready for them_."

So far things were moving according to the plan, but there were concerns for McNulty. _Where is the Prior? We need to capture or nail his ass quick before he starts pulling his wizard routine on some of my men. Where's he hiding? _

Three blocks east of McNulty and Alpha Company, Captain Delahunt and his Rangers were preparing a nasty welcome for the approaching Ori troops. They'd had just enough time to set up two claymore mines on both sides of the street. Any Ori coming directly down the main boulevard would be peppered with ball bearings. The Rangers had begun occupying the three to four story buildings on either side of the street. Delahunt's men could hear the approach of some of the Ori soldiers. Their bulky and completely useless medieval-style armor was only making them easier targets for the American force.

Delahunt had planned his hasty ambush well. Of course it helped that the Ori troops, who'd never encountered professional soldiers before this day, were playing right into his hands. The initial Ori scouts were allowed to proceed deeply into the Rangers' kill zone as a way of enticing the main body to continue down the street. It was working.

Two scouts approached the ambush area carefully. They stopped every few steps to listen for any signs of the enemy. Finally, the scouts exchanged a look and a nod. One scout turned and used his arm to signal the main force to come up. Within seconds the Ori force came down the street noisily jogging, their armor literally waking the dead. Delahunt waited patiently for the right moment… "NOW, DO IT!"

Two of his men double-clapped the activation switches of the claymore mines. Each M18A1 Claymore mine contained 700 small ball bearings and was shot out by a pound and a half of C-4 explosives. The effect on the human body is one of gross carnage. The claymore is effective to over 160 feet. The attacking Ori force was hit by the Rangers' claymores at a distance of 45 feet. Delahunt watched as most of the Ori force, armored or not, disintegrated into a fine mist and shards of bone. Of the 30 Ori that had come into the ambush, four survived the effects of the claymores. With that, approximately 100 Rangers opened fire on the survivors. It was over in seconds.

Delahunt turned to his radioman. "Get me the Colonel." Within seconds, he was reporting the outcome. 'Sir, we've secured the immediate area. No survivors among the Ori. Do we have an idea where the rest are? Over."

"_The Odyssey's sensors are showing the rest of them holed up in a defensive position three blocks further east of your current location. Move forward and engage them. Once we've cleared all the structures in this immediate area, I'll send one of Alpha's platoons up as soon as I can. Be careful, we haven't accounted for the Prior as of yet. We need to end this before they get a message to their bosses. How copy?"_

"Roger that, we're moving out now. Ranger One Two out." Delahunt turned to his platoon leaders, who'd rallied up at his position. "The last group of these pricks is holed up in a defensive position three blocks east of here. The boss wants us to move forward and probe the position. If we can take it we will, otherwise I'll call in some air strikes on them. Let's go."

As Delahunt and his men turned to move out, he saw a haunting image. In a window across the street was the face of a small girl staring at him. It was apparent that the girl was scared to death and deeply traumatized. One of her parents soon rushed to the window and spirited her away. The face of that little girl would haunt Delahunt for years to come.

It took time for the Ranger force to move down the street. Platoons and squads leapfrogged each other in an effort to clear the buildings adjacent to the road. In each one they found no opposition but instead scared civilians, who begged in a version of broken English for the Rangers not to kill them. The Rangers, to a man, couldn't believe the amount of fear that had been instilled in the residents. Whatever the Ori had done to them had a harrowing effect. It only increased their determination to finish things off.

Delahunt and Bravo Company made the move three blocks east and soon found they were facing another open square that would remind many of Medieval Europe. Just as the initial element reached the edge of the square, they came under fire from a three story building across the square. The small group of Ori managed to put up an impressive amount of fire on the Ranger force. Just as Delahunt and his men were reacting, the Ori opened up with more powerful energy weapons of some variety. Apparently the Ori possessed some version of a squad-level weapon and it was being used to maximum effect. Large chunks of stone and wood splintered into flying shrapnel. Immediately, four Rangers were wounded, two seriously. The cries of "medic!" could be heard to Delahunt's right.

Stone and brick flew up around his position. "Jesus Christ!" was all he managed to scream out as the fire intensified and he was forced to dive for cover. Rangers on the second and third stories of the adjacent buildings began peppering the Ori stronghold with accurate counter fire. The front of the building housing the Ori position was being chewed up by hundreds of rounds of 5.56 and 7.62 millimeter ammunition. The firefight grew more intense with each passing minute. Delahunt quickly regained his senses and yelled out for his Combat Controller, Air Force Technical Sergeant Eric Howard.

"Enough of this! Get me some air cover and smoke these guys!"

"Roger that!" Howard keyed his radio. "Red Fox Three, this is Ranger One Two, do you read?"

Red Fox Three was the call sign for a two ship package of F-302's from the _Odyssey_. Both had their weapons loads configured to support the ground mission and were orbiting above the city.

"_Ranger One Two, This is Red Fox Three. We read you loud and clear. What have you got?"_

"Red Fox Three, I have numerous hostiles in a three story building approximately 250 yards east of our position. The building is on the east side of the square, I repeat, the east side of the square. At this time, Ranger One Two is requesting danger close. We need a strike on the building. I want one 500 on the west facing side, repeat, the west facing side, how copy?" The '500' he was requesting was a 500 pound bomb.

"_Red Fox Three copies danger close. One 500 on the west face of the building. I see it now. Rolling in hot in thirty seconds. Tell your guys to bunker down and enjoy the show. Out." _

Howard turned to Delahunt. "Sir, thirty seconds out! It'll be danger close! Get 'em down!"

Delahunt yelled into his tactical mike. "All Bravo units, friendly air thirty seconds out. It'll be close. Bunker down!" Bravo Company's men hunkered down in their positions and continued to pour fire into the Ori stronghold. Just as they prepared for the air strike, they saw it. What they saw shocked every Ranger to his core.

The Prior, with a look of detachment, walked out the front entrance of the building his men were occupying. He seemed impervious to the rounds being thrown his way due to some invisible field of unknown creation. He seemed completely sure of his own safety and the futility of the Rangers' attempts to kill him. He began to raise his arms, his wooden staff high in his right hand. He opened his mouth and prepared to speak. As the first word escaped his lip, physics took over.

The pilot of the F-302, Major Rich "Hitman" Hearn, had placed the bomb exactly where it was needed. The Mk 82 500 lb. bomb landed in a center window on the second story of the building. The resulting explosion not only collapsed the building in seconds, killing all of the Ori defenders either through debris or the force of the explosion, but created a massive pressure wave. This wave and tons of shrapnel and debris hit the Prior hundredths of a second after impact and tore the Prior into pieces no larger than his hands.

Delahunt waited for the wave and cloud of dust to pass and then stood up. He looked at the scene of devastation and shook his head.

_Couldn't happen to nicer people._

Later, Lt. Col. McNulty walked down the road and viewed the destruction his men had wrought. The local citizens, bewildered and unsure of the current situation or of their potential saviors, were still in hiding in their homes. Few had dared to venture on the streets as of yet. Earth-based medical teams would arrive soon to help in the rescue effort. The Australians estimated they'd witnessed over 3,000 people being executed for not toeing the line on 'Origin'. No one knew what the final toll would be.

McNulty walked over debris and carnage and found himself near the spot the Prior had once stood in his final moments of life. Nearby was the remnant of his staff. McNulty bent down and retrieved the artifact with a careful eye. He still was mesmerized by the Prior's power and was unsure of what remained in the broken stick. He could only shake his head at the craziness of the entire situation. They'd stopped the evil today; who's to say what tomorrow would bring. McNulty knew only one thing: it was far from over.


	10. Chapter 8

_**Author's note:** First off, I'd like to apologize to the readers of this story. The lack of a timely update during these winter months has been egregious. However, I would ask for your patience and understanding. Unfortunately, my work commitments have been especially time-consuming and draining, particularly since Christmastime. I know there are many of you who can empathize with this. Many an idea for this story had to be shelved since I literally had no time to flesh it out. This drove me nuts. It now looks like I'll have at least a little more time to sit down and attack the keyboard with gusto._

_As for the story, instead of prolonging the agony any further, I've decided to publish this "mini" chapter, just as I did with Chapter Four. This was intended to be part of something much larger, but I thought it important to get something out into the public realm soon. Please know that more is coming very soon, as the Rangers, O'Neill and the Latin-speaking Ori killers have a large tale to tell. _

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Stargate Command**

Sheppard entered the conference room in his usual stride, finding Weir fully engrossed in reading a stack of briefing notes. The term "stack' was being kind. It was more of a deluge. Her attention to detail was something he had always marveled at during their time at Atlantis. She had a voracious appetite for information and seemed able to process it almost as quickly. He figured that was the main reason she was such a good diplomat. She was capable of juggling large amounts of information at the same time with a rare agility. There were many days on Atlantis where she could be found on her limited off-time engrossed in the latest foreign policy journal or novel shipped from Earth. Reading and studying were benign addictions for her. Sheppard, as a trained pilot, had mastered the art of multi-tasking long ago. But Weir's gift for it surprised even him.

Sheppard remained quiet for a moment and watched Weir's studious intensity. Weir's eyes narrowed as she continued reading a rather large document held in an official folder marked "SAP/SAR CLASSIFIED" on the outside. The nature of her intensity seemed to almost burn through the documents in her hand, leading Sheppard to wonder about the true nature of unfolding events. In all of the time he'd spent with Elizabeth Weir, John Sheppard knew one thing for certain: Weir was a tough nut to crack. He watched closely as Elizabeth slowly shook her head, probably without even being aware of it, and muttered something under her breath.

Even on this return trip to Earth, she'd taken little time for herself. She'd spared herself a couple of extra days in Washington, but had mainly spent them clearing up odds and ends, as if almost refusing to decompress from the time away, lest it soften her focus too much. Sheppard, on the other hand, had reveled in the free time, carousing the bars of Georgetown and Adams-Morgan and catching up with friends. Unlike his boss, he recognized that he needed the time away. He made a mental note to remind Weir that she probably needed it too. Finally, he announced his presence.

"He should be down here any minute they tell me."

Weir looked up from the stack of documents and glanced at Sheppard with a weary eye born of a busy few days at the SGC and in Washington. "Good, I'm looking forward to finally meeting him. I'm reading a little bit about him now and I can tell you it would make a great novel. He certainly has an interesting background, even for the Army. The problem is a lot of it is classified above even our level."

Sheppard arched his brow and chuckled. "Well, that's what happens when you command something that doesn't officially exist. I called a few of my buddies at AFSOC. They had some very good things to say." AFSOC stood for Air Force Special Operations Command, the special ops arm of the Air Force and the old stomping ground of both O'Neill and Sheppard along with many others of the SGC.

"Oh, like what?"

"The most heavily used adjectives I believe were prudent, apolitical, and audacious. There was a fair amount of respect in the descriptions"

It was Weir's turn to arch her brow in a quizzical manner. "How can someone be both prudent _and_ audacious?"

"Beats me Elizabeth, but that's what these guys said and I trust their opinions on these things. Our community is rather contained and reputations matter for something. We have to trust the guys we're working with or it all goes to shit. What do your papers say?"

"The standard bio stuff, nothing fancy. He graduated in the top third of his class at West Point. He went into the infantry but branched out pretty quickly. He joined Special Forces and apparently developed into a legendary figure in that community. He was involved in the effort to take down the Colombian drug cartels. I know we had a lot of special ops types down there involved in that, doing some rather untactful things. I fought against it at the time. I still think we got our hands far too dirty there." Weir never really ran that far from her activist roots.

"Yeah, we had Air Force assets down there as well. What else?"

"A Master's from Johns Hopkins, Command and Staff College plus he worked at NATO. He also commanded the 5th Special Forces Group at Fort Campbell. Then of course he commanded the unit that doesn't exist. I find that concept kind of hilarious, don't you? What is it with you military guys and your secret units? Everyone knows about it. Didn't Chuck Norris or someone make a movie about it?"

Sheppard just shrugged. "Yeah, back in the 80's. It wasn't very good. It is what it is. It's not any crazier than many of the things we've seen in Pegasus, so why should you be surprised? Seriously though, the Delta operators I've worked with were awesome. Just a great group of people who know their jobs."

The "unit that doesn't exist" was a matter of pop culture legend. They were referring to the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, known to the rest of the world simply as Delta Force. Despite being such a fixture in popular culture, with movies, television shows and books dedicated to it, Delta, its men and its operations were a matter of the highest secrecy. Divided into three operational squadrons, Delta's mission is to combat terrorism and other threats to national security worldwide, and since the inception of the SGC, on an interstellar basis. They are among the most superbly-trained and intelligent soldiers on Earth. Delta operators had conducted a few clandestine missions through the gate, including the capture of a Goa'uld weapons scientist who was being interrogated at Area 51. That mission had been a coup for the advanced research being conducted there, allowing the United States and its allies a true understanding of the basis for Goa'uld technology. It had been pulled off with such skill that the Goa'uld never discovered the identity of the kidnappers who'd also killed over 150 Jaffa warriors.

Weir looked back down at her documents and went back to reading while Sheppard paced the room. He was dressed in his Air Force Class A uniform and sported a fresh haircut, knowing full well that it certainly wouldn't impress the new commander of Atlantis' military contingent. Sheppard knew that his days at Atlantis were most likely numbered. No one, including Weir or General Landry had said as much, but he could see the writing on the wall. He had made far too many enemies, he reasoned to himself. The death of Colonel Sumner and his unconventional style were two of the nails in his coffin.

A few moments later General Landry walked into the room followed by an Army Brigadier General. Sheppard came to attention and was waved down by Landry. Weir rose and faced Landry with a sweet smile that said nothing and hid much. Sheppard sized up the new arrival. He looked about 5'10", maybe 180 ponds, nearly all of it muscle with a short haircut that hid what were probably gray hairs at his temple. He was dressed in the green Army Class A uniform, a healthy amount of awards and decorations on his left chest in addition to various qualification badges. He carried himself with a sense of quiet confidence and had a twinkle in his eye, as if he knew a funny joke that others did not.

It was apparent from the first moment to Weir and Sheppard that this man had "it", that quality that certain very rare individuals walked into a room with. It was as if the air pressure or the gravity, the very physical nature of their small little universe had changed. It was one of those ephemeral things, noticed by the intelligent or the perceptive. Certain individuals just brought a different light with them, and this man was one of those rare people. Now he was going to be Sheppard's boss.

Landry beamed with one of those awkward "let's all get along" smiles that was designed to keep the tension at bay. He had enough without a pissing contest at Atlantis. "Doctor Weir, Colonel Sheppard, allow me to introduce Brigadier General John Birmingham. General, this is Doctor Elizabeth Weir and Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

Handshakes and greetings were exchanged and then Landry motioned for all to grab a seat. Then he got down to business. "I know that in the next few days we'll be getting more into detail about Atlantis' operations and the tactical situation there. I thought you would all benefit from sitting down and discussing a lot of issues and most of all getting to know one another. I have some pressing duties to attend to, so I'll leave you all to it." With that, Landry excused himself and departed. Both sides of the table shared a bemused look, as if the parent had just exited the room. For a moment, the room went quiet before Weir broke the silence.

"General, you must have a thousand questions, where would you like to start?"

Birmingham chuckled and sat back in the chair. At first glance he seemed relaxed with the entire situation. "Doctor, there are millions of questions but we'll get to those later. Let me just first say that I've studied your reports and findings extensively. Both of you, and your personnel, have done amazing things, as have the personnel of the SGC. To go to Atlantis, knowing that it could be a suicide mission, was a remarkable thing. I think now, with the resources that are going to be dedicated, even greater things can be accomplished.

"Let's get some things out in the open now. I know you haven't had the greatest relationship with the military hierarchy Doctor. Some elements in the chain of command did not want you there. I can't speak to it since I wasn't here until very recently and I'm playing catch-up with all the facts. I know you definitely had differences with Colonel Everett over the defense of the city; I want to avoid that sort of nonsense from the start. You are the leader of the Atlantis Expedition as appointed by the President and the IOA. I have been tasked with commanding the forces that will be based there. My primary mission is the defense of the city and the safety of you and your expedition personnel. As time goes by and we get to know each other, we'll become more comfortable with each other's leadership style. I can only promise that I'm an open-minded person. All I can ask is the same in return." It sounded as if Birmingham had been preparing for Weir for some time.

"I agree General. I think we're on the same page so far. We have a responsibility out in the Pegasus Galaxy to live up to the standards we've set for ourselves over time. Every day out there is a test. I've had to do things and make decisions, as has Colonel Sheppard, which we've never dreamed of. Who lives and who dies? It's a heavy burden but we deal with it."

"One day at a time Doctor, one day at a time. The good news is that you'll be returning to Atlantis with some new toys on the way. The assets being committed are serious and will increase our capabilities in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"I agree General; I'm just concerned about two things. One, how we use those assets, and two, what type of message it will send to our friends and neighbors in the region. Many of those cultures have been traumatized over the years by Wraith incursions. The last thing I want is for us to barrel into the area with a large scale military presence and turn that fear and anxiety on us." The unspoken word in Weir's opening salvo was _Iraq_, and they all knew it. It couldn't have been more obvious if she'd screamed it.

Birmingham wasn't biting; that was an issue for another day. "Doctor Weir, I can assure you that the allied forces being dispatched to Atlantis have no intention of doing anything to provoke the peaceful people of the region, however, let's consider a couple of facts as they currently present themselves. First, what real allies do we have in the Pegasus Galaxy? From everything I've studied so far, including your reports, it's not exactly '_Paris in_ _springtime_' out there. It's some sort of Machiavellian mess wrapped up in a child's nightmare. People are hanging on to a thread of hope. You had one civilization, the Hoffans I believe, who were willing to sacrifice a large chunk of their population to develop immunity to Wraith culling, with no guarantee that they would be left alone. Exactly how much worse can it get? What can me, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard or anyone else in uniform do that rivals that?

"Secondly, either we own the city or we don't." At this sentiment, Sheppard's chest puffed out slightly. _I can work with this guy! _"So far, it seems as if many have thought that we're just caretakers or renters of Atlantis. Well, the previous owners are long since gone. We're done paying rent, at least that is the sentiment of all the government leaders I've spoken with, both American and foreign. We've taken on the mortgage, so to speak. I plan to think of Atlantis as our house, and no one just kicks in the door to my house. I hope you understand what I'm getting at."

It was obvious to the others that Weir understood Birmingham, but as was her nature, her two cents would make an appearance. "General, I appreciate your candor. I understand that the President and the other IOA nations intend to exercise sovereignty over Atlantis. I have absolutely no qualms regarding that action. We are the closest descendants of the Ancients and we found it first. I just want to see us live up to our best intentions with regard to our actions in the Pegasus Galaxy. We can do a lot of good there if we play our cards right. That benefits us in the long term. I guess I'm just somewhat of a glass-half-full type of person. I believe we can accomplish some great things."

"I agree Doctor. I don't want it to seem that I'm a pessimist. I just hide my excitement well." A smile crossed Birmingham's face that caused the other two to chuckle. This seemed to break the tension in the room somewhat, which relieved all three.

"I think there will be a lot of good days and a lot of Excedrin headaches, but that seems to be our lot. There is one more thing I'd like to address, and that is this silly war of personalities between the scientific and military members of the expedition."

Weir's head cocked to the side in surprise; she hadn't expected this issue to come up so soon. Birmingham was correct however; the scientific and military communities hadn't always been playing well together. The military expected quick work, discipline and results. Scientists took their time, could be opera-like divas and viewed soldiers as mental midgets with a complex. How Samantha Carter straddled both worlds so well, Weir would never know.

This problem had plagued the program and the SGC since the beginning. So many constituencies had their hands involved that trouble was bound to happen. Diplomats, soldiers, politicians and scientists all saw the program from a different vantage point, namely their own. It was apparent Birmingham wanted to change the dynamic, whether for the better was the question. Even Sheppard seemed to be intrigued by the course the conversation had just taken

Weir's thoughts ran at a mile a minute. _What is this guy all about? Has he expressed these ideas to Landry or O'Neill? Is he someone's stalking horse? Where is this going? _A thousand questions flooded her thoughts; she knew she needed to play this line of thought out. She looked Birmingham in the eye and smiled like a cat, withholding all she could.

General Birmingham saw Weir's expression and smiled. Atlantis was about to get interesting.


	11. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

**The White House**

**Washington, DC**

Henry Hayes almost always took a moment during his days to remember something about his father. It was a way of keeping his memory close and of using the nuggets of wisdom he had always thrown out. A high school teacher and administrator for 30 years in Illinois, he'd always had an answer when Hayes had a question. One of the few matters he'd never had an easy answer for was evil. Hayes' father had served in the 4th Armored Division in Europe during World War Two, landing at Normandy and fighting all the way to Germany. One of his worst moments was helping to liberate a concentration camp. His father could never come to a rational explanation for what he'd see. The son now knew how he felt.

He leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and let out a sharp and pronounced exhale, almost as if he were attempting to purge himself of some dark impulse or feeling. No one who knew the things he was learning would have been surprised by it. Since his initiation into the realm of those who were aware of extraterrestrial life, it occurred to him that his days and nights had gotten longer and much more complicated, with more matters of life and death and so on. It wasn't exactly Social Security reform or immigration policy. He knew complaining was not going to work- _who does the President take his complaints to_? However, there were many a day when he wished for a simpler time, before the universe had gotten infinitely more complicated and a circular Pandora's Box had been opened. Then he remembered, it had always been complicated, he'd just been ignorant of it. Now he was forced, as with so much, to keep his own counsel, or turn to trusted advisers like the ones he faced now.

Hayes looked back down at the photographs that Jack O'Neill had brought with him. It was enough to make him old. His attention focused on the photo of a small boy, no more than 10, whose legs had apparently been shot off either for sport or target practice, no one was particularly sure at the moment. Either the shock or rapid blood loss had killed him. He was facing up from the cobblestone street, his eyes open in a plaintive stare at the sky above, almost waiting for the salvation that didn't arrive in time. His left hand clutched an object that Hayes couldn't make out, a charm or lucky item that had failed its owner in his time of need. Hayes rubbed his temple with his left hand and looked up from the photo.

"Do we have an idea on the death toll Francis?"

General Maynard shifted uncomfortably on the couch, a grim look on his face. "We're still assisting the local population in determining that sir. Many are just now returning to their homes from hiding and are finding that family members were caught up in the Ori massacre. We've got civil affairs and medical teams from the SGC on the ground now and the European Union is sending us some additional personnel to help. They had a lot of experience with this sort of thing in Bosnia and Kosovo during the Nineties. The local populace has been very appreciative for our help. We've got a Marine security platoon on the ground, but the locals know they'll be on their own soon."

Hayes simply nodded. He wished that he could do more but they only had so many assets at their disposal to use through the gate. It was one of the downsides of keeping the SGC and its mission a secret. The day was coming when that would change. _Ugh, one problem at a time…_ Hayes turned his attention to Jack, who hadn't smiled since the first images of the Ori's actions had arrived from McNulty's force.

"Jack, what's it going to take to get these guys to back down? Is this sort of cruelty indicative of the lot, or was this an element that went rogue? I guess I'm trying to fish for some hope of getting them to quit this crusade they're on."

"Sir, I've seen my fair share of evil in the last decade, whether it was the Goa'uld or something else. Every time, there was some angle that we could exploit to avoid an all-out conflict on a large scale. With the Goa'uld, it was the natural rivalries between System Lords. They were at their core greedy little snakes that were ruled by a lust for power and a mammoth ego. With the Repilcators, it was using their technology against them. In this case, there is no political angle. To be blunt, they're just bad. Evil. Call it whatever you want. Short of fighting them off or weaning their believers away from them, it'll have to be a straight-up fight. I don't see another way around it. The ascended Ancients have made it clear to Daniel Jackson and others that they're not going to intercede and stop them."

The National Security Advisor looked over at Jack. "If that's the case General, then what exactly do you think we ought to do? Can we even fight these people on an even field? I've seen your own estimates on their ships and the amount of troops they can recruit. The power at their disposal is frightening." Dr. Sylvia Regan shifted her attention to the President. "I know we've decided to take the gloves off sir, but we need to keep our options open."

Jack saw where Regan was going and didn't like it at all. "I hope you're not suggesting Doctor that we come to some sort of arrangement with the Ori? Because if you are I'd say that was the craziest notion I've heard in a while. I would remind you that these same people launched an attack on this world using an engineered biological weapon. They didn't do that to warn us off of opposing them; they did it to exterminate what they perceived to be a threat. Also, I would say it's pretty clear that their not interested in negotiation." With that, Jack threw some photos of the victims of P9J-737 on the coffee table in front of Regan.

Regan kept to her guns. "I seem to remember that you and some others of this government negotiated with various System Lords when the need arose General. Whether we like it or not, some times you have to deal with the devil."

"Doctor, I'd play Texas Hold'em with Satan himself if I had to. That's not the point. As I said earlier, these are not the System Lords. They're not playing the same game. There's no natural rivalry to use. We can't play one off against another or feed any preconceived paranoia; it's just not there. They are out to secure one resource: believers. They are the base of the Ori's strength. It's believe or die with this group."

Hayes had let the debate rage because he had his own internal doubts. On one hand was Dr. Regan, hopeful of staving off a bloody and protracted conflict that the nations of Earth were in no position to fight. Just as certain and impassioned was O'Neill, who had ample experience with these issues. It would be Hayes' job to set the course. Of course, that's why they joked that he made the big bucks.

"Listen, both of your arguments have a certain logic and merit to them. Sylvia, I'm not looking for a fight but it's apparent that it's coming. By all rights, we could have launched an all-out nuclear response to that plague of theirs. Those are not the actions of reasonable people for whom negotiation is a plausible option. Just look at these pictures, for Christ's sake! On the other hand, we cannot do it all. Generals, we need time and allies. So far, the Jaffa have not been living up to the billing and I intend on saying that to Teal'c and Bratac when they arrive. Half of the Jaffa want to stay out of the way and a large chunk by your own reports are leaning towards getting in bed with these monsters. We and the rest of the IOA have steered a lot of aid in their direction and so far the returns haven't been that good."

Jack was about to argue the point but stopped himself, realizing that there was truth to Hayes' implications. The Jaffa _were_ a disappointment. But that was an issue for later. Hayes brought him back to the conversation.

"General, what is the status of our allies and friends out there? Their butts are in the sling just as much as ours."

"The Asgard have been extremely helpful to us on the technology front. They're working closely with the Navy as we speak on the newest generation of warships. They're aware of the Ori threat but due to the damage they suffered fighting the Replicators, they're not ready to face the Ori head-on. When the time comes, they'll be there.

"The Hebridians have been coordinating intelligence with us but so far haven't taken any offensive actions, mainly because the Ori haven't attacked them, their neighbors or their interests yet. They do have some special operations forces working the region in concert with our folks. The same goes for many of the others. It's as if no one wants to draw attention to themselves. The Brits did make contact with that group of human soldiers who had a run-in with a Prior. They'll be following it up and General Landry is tracking it."

"General, I want some arm twisting done with these other governments. The United States is willing to do as much as possible but it's time that some of these alien governments start pulling their weight. We removed the Goa'uld threat from their doorsteps at the cost of lives and treasure. It's now time to repay the favor. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir. This all brings us to the main issue sir, and that's what to do about the Ori encampment on P6T-245. As long as they're allowed to operate in our galaxy with impunity, we're at risk. I cannot stress this enough, they _cannot_ be allowed to maintain a beachhead here. It'll be the wound that eventually kills us. We need to commence Phase Two of Operation Heavyweight as soon as you give the OK." Jack handed the President another set of images. "These are the latest images captured by the Asgard. The camp is getting bigger, most likely in anticipation of more troops. Our Green Berets on the ground report the same thing."

Hayes took in Jack's sales pitch for a moment and turned to General Maynard. "Francis, do you concur with General O'Neill's sentiments?"

"Yes sir. We have to deal with that Ori camp. We're catching them flat-footed but that's going to change once they catch wind that we're not sitting around waiting to get run over. We need to catch them now while they're still training bodies on that planet."

Hayes rose from his chair and paced the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets. For him it was a habit going back to his youth. He wasn't troubled with ordering the death of Priors, especially after their latest atrocity. What bothered him more were the many young men who'd been seduced into serving the Ori with promises of eternal salvation and ascension. _How do we combat a sales pitch involving the after-life?_ Many were being convinced that all others, including the peoples of Earth, were the devil's own children. Hayes wasn't about waste time with the comparisons to the struggles between Islam and the West; it went without saying. _Where did it all go wrong? _He'd save that question for another day.

"You do realize what you're asking me to do? This isn't like sending a couple of B-2's to bomb a camp in Afghanistan. It's twelve thousand men at last count, many of them forced into service."

"I'm aware of that sir, just as General O'Neill is. I don't take any pleasure in this. But if we didn't recommend this we'd be derelict. That camp is a mortal threat to the security of this world. Those twelve thousand will continue to grow. I wouldn't ask you to approve something like this unless I saw no other solution. Neither would the IOA."

Hayes wanted to chuckle at the mention of the IOA. They just wanted the United States to do everything and complain about it afterward.

Hayes folded his hands in front of his face and settled into thought for a moment. Hayes had known when he ran for the presidency that he'd have to make tough decisions; he'd been making them his entire life. He just never planned on signing the death warrant for twelve thousand men on an alien planet.

"Alright gentlemen, you have a go. Approved."

"Yes sir." With that, Maynard rose and walked to a phone by the door. Hayes listened as Maynard passed the go order to the National Military Command Center, or NMCC, at the Pentagon. "This is Maynard; we have National Command Authority authorization. Execute Case Blue. I repeat, execute Case Blue." Maynard returned the receiver to its cradle and returned to his seat.

Hayes said nothing as nothing needed to be said. He slowly walked over to the widow behind his desk and stared out at the day. No one said a word.

**An Undisclosed Location**

In a program that was renowned in military and intelligence circles for its secrecy and compartmentalization, this place was the blackest of the black. It had no official name, except a coded designation on SGC dialing computers and files. Only a select number of SGC personnel had visited the site. Few even within the rarified air of the Department of Defense and the SGC had full knowledge of it and its purposes. The secrecy was for a number of reasons and served useful purposes. Originally designed as a sort of "safe house" for SG teams on the run from hostile pursuers, its uses had morphed over time. As was the custom, it was a gate situated on an unpopulated planet in a remote part of the galaxy. Various nomadic gate travelers had passed through in the distant past but hadn't settled on the planet. No single power had claimed dominion, not even the Goa'uld. Now it had its first real "owners" in hundreds of years.

Upon its first selection by the Air Force as a safe refuge, a small amount of infrastructure had been erected. Several small buildings, mainly Quonset huts, had been raised along with a water purification system, a small electrical production system and other means of sustaining personnel in relative comfort, at least by the standards of a deployed location. The site had been used on occasion for its original purpose, with SG teams dodging everything from staff blasts to arrows as they arrived. Now the site had a much different mission, one in which the ordinance would be of the outgoing variety.

With the small amount of ships currently at Earth's disposal, the SGC and IOA had discovered a serious flaw in its tactics. The SGC lacked the resources to conduct precision strikes on enemy troops and facilities throughout the galaxy. This lack of power projection allowed hostile forces to establish themselves on distant worlds, confident that the Tau'ri and other forces were incapable of hurting them. This dilemma haunted many of the strategic planners at the DOD and the National Security Council with many a study directed at solving the issue before it became a fatal flaw. The arrival of the Ori on the scene only hastened this push. Finally, a solution was proposed by an unlikely source, civilian contractors working with the SGC.

A rather bright young engineer with Boeing was part of the team tasked with coming up with a quick and radical solution to the SGC's problem. This engineer looked at the military's available resources and finally asked a simple question: Can we launch precision weaponry through an active wormhole? The answer to his question, after a little research, was yes. It wasn't a radical idea. The SGC had previously used a rigged launcher in the gate room at Cheyenne Mountain to launch Hellfire missiles in support of SGC combat operations. The Hellfires had targeted entrenched Goa'uld positions at or near stargates with successful results. The Jaffa, unused to such precision weaponry, were unprepared when US forces employed it.

It was with this past as the backdrop that two Americans stood on a two story platform looking down at their creation. It was simple enough, at least at first glance.

"You know, if this doesn't work I'll be commanding a JROTC detachment at a Buffalo high school, don't you?" The Air Force officer nervously tugged at the pocket on his uniform, one of the newly issued Airman Battle Uniforms or ABU. Air Force personnel associated with the SGC were among the first being issued the new outfit, which was a digitally pixilated tiger stripe pattern of various shades of grey and green. At least one Air Force officer declared that the uniform had been designed by a kindergartner with a methamphetamine addiction. His logic was not far off.

The second individual, the previously mentioned bright, young engineer from Boeing, just sighed and turned to his Air Force colleague. He'd heard his panicked declarations on more than a few occasions. At first he'd been annoyed. Now he just let them slide with the necessary bemusement to calm the man's nerves. It wasn't his first time at the rodeo, so to speak, and panicking now was pointless.

"Relax, this will work. The tests were flawless and the targeting packages have been upgraded. Even these Asgard think it'll work, and apparently they're difficult to impress. I believe their description was 'interesting'."

"We'll see. This set-up sure is a bitch though, isn't it?"

"No arguing that."

Both men turned and stared down at their handiwork, the product of millions of dollars and thousands of hours of work. An area the size of multiple football fields had been cleared and flattened in front of the stargate in a half-circle. Facing the gate from various angles of the half-circle were two dozen launch stands approximately 20 feet in height and secured with concrete mountings into the earth. Atop these strange platforms were the weapons that would do the job. Their bastardized creation was startling to behold.

Atop the launchers were two dozen AGM-86C and D cruise missiles, normally launched from aircraft but in this case modified for launch through the stargate, which they stared at with menacing purpose. Powered by an F-107-WR-101 turbofan engine, each would streak through the gate at high subsonic speeds and strike their targets before the defenders could react. Each had an inertial navigation system that had been made deadlier by the Asgard. Days earlier, Earth's allies had conducted a covert survey of the target in question and had obtained an accurate picture of the area, allowing the Boeing engineers and the Air Force to plan the strike with pinpoint precision.

What put a cold chill through those involved in the operation however, was what each carried. The normal warheads had been removed and replaced with a much more sinister payload. The first twelve were given high-impulse thermobaric warheads or HIT's. One of the deadliest creations of the human imagination short of nuclear ordinance, each would deliver an incredible amount of destructive power to a target area. Also commonly known as fuel-air explosives, thermobaric weapons differ from conventional warheads in that they consist of only an agent and dispersing mechanism, relying on the atmospheric oxygen to act as the oxidizer. Each would produce a huge and powerful blast wave in addition to incredible heat at the impact sit. Those in the target location, in this case the foot soldiers of the Ori, would experience Earth's version of man-made hell.

The remaining twelve warheads would be armed with the standard 3,000 pound PBXN-111 Blast Fragmentation Warhead. These would be the follow-up shots targeted to damage or destroy any remaining areas of concentrated strength. This combined explosive power would devastate anyone or anything caught out in the open. This was to be Jack O'Neill's payback for the Ori savagery on P9J-737.

As the two men stared at their creation, a sergeant jogged over to their position. "Sirs, you're needed in the command bunker ASAP. We received orders from Earth during the last stargate activation."

With that, the two engineers ran to the command facility, a low, squat concrete bunker a few hundred feet from the stargate that would also serve as the launch control for the missiles. As they raced inside, they found the facility's commander, Colonel Phil Moritz, reading over a communication. Moritz had gone along with the project but still had his doubts. He turned and faced the engineers as they arrived.

"Well, it looks like your idea is going to get tested guys. We have orders from NMCC to strike the target as soon as we're ready. What's our status?"

The Boeing engineer looked surprised that the moment had actually arrived. "Colonel, the systems all check out. The Asgard data has been fed into the targeting package and all the birds are green-lit. We're ready whenever you are."

"Alright then, let's get this done."

**P6T-245**

Staff Sergeant Ben Thacker and his fellow Green Berets had been watching the Ori encampment with a growing concern. They were amazed at the amount of resources the Ori were apparently throwing into their first fortified position in the Milky Way galaxy. What had first been an interesting first look at the latest threat to Earth was now becoming something else entirely. It was frightening. They estimated that there were now more than 14,000 men to include Priors, all training seven days a week. The training may have bordered on the ridiculous but they were doing a lot of it.

Thacker slowly used his left hand to adjust the settings on the advanced long-range surveillance camera he was using to document the activities in the valley below. During their time on the planet they'd recorded hundreds of hours of film for study by the intelligence community. This was the first extended look at the Priors and their minions. Thacker slowly turned his head to face his partner in the over-watch position, Sergeant First Class Fidel 'Frank' Rojas.

"Washington had better make up its mind pretty soon, or this place is going to turn into New York at noon on a Monday."

"No shit. These guys are spreading like cockroaches in a bad Chinese restaurant. If this isn't the only camp they've got, we're in trouble. But where are they getting all these guys from? You can't tell me they're recruiting this many from worlds they just curb-stomped. I'm no expert but even I can tell there's more to this than we've seen so far. Even the Major thinks so." With that, Rojas nodded his head towards the leader of the recon team, Major Ryan Alves, who was a few feet away in his own position and using optics to track the camp.

"You're probably right. There has to be more than…" Thacker stopped mid-sentence as the stargate in valley below came to life. It wasn't unusual as the Ori were using it extensively to bring in more troops and supplies. Moments after it activated, the team's communications sergeant came onto the tactical net.

"_We're receiving instructions from the SGC through the gate. They're about to begin. We're to record and observe the strike and assess the results. Then we're to be at the rendezvous point in four hours for extraction."_

Major Alves broke in on the net to issue final instructions. _"Understood. All sections ready your cameras and cover your areas. Be prepared to extricate if they start moving toward our area. Good luck. Out."_

In the valley below, the Ori soldiers manning the sentry posts at the gate took notice but were not alarmed. The gate was constantly in use and more men and material were expected. The build-up to the assault on the Unbelievers was speeding up rapidly and they would soon-

WHOOSH!

Men were thrown to the ground as a long dart-like object blew out of the gate and sped at incredible speed to the far side of the camp. Ori soldiers watched in amazement for the precious few seconds it took the missile to reach its destination. The first position targeted was a mini-camp of tents and depots holding a few thousand men just returning from a day of training. Thousands of soldiers looked up in unison as the missile popped up over their camp. For nearly all, it was the last thing they would ever witness.

Upon reaching its preprogrammed target area, the warhead of the missile cracked open and released its contents, in this case a volatile mixture of propylene oxide and explosives. Those witnessing it had a bare second to see a bright orange cloud open up above their heads. Many of the soldiers from pre-industrial societies were amazed, believing they were being personally blessed by their gods for their hard work. Soon the 'blessing' took form.

Incendiary fuses in the warhead took over, turning the orange vapor cloud into something akin to the fires of hell. The resulting blast and pressure wave destroyed everything in its path. At its center, temperatures rose to 3,000 degrees Centigrade and the overpressure reached 430 psi. Anything caught in the blast area; to include men, equipment, plant and animal life down to the microscopic level, all ceased to exist. Even the air itself caught on fire, creating a vacuum that pulled in more fuel from the surrounding area. In the span of seconds, over four thousand men were burned, cooked or roasted to death inside a massive fireball that consumed all it touched.

Before any of the other soldiers within the encampment could react, the scene of carnage was repeated as eleven more cruise missiles blazed through the gate and performed similar acts of destructions. Within 90 seconds, over 12,000 of the 14,000 Ori troops were killed in such a fashion. The Green Berets on the ridge watched in amazed shock and could only shake their heads at what their government was capable of when roused to fight. Ben Thacker watched in deft appreciation. _Shock and awe alright._

Before the dazed survivors could even react to the swift savagery that had been visited upon them, twelve more missiles arrived in rapid succession and added their 3,000 pound warheads to the destruction. The entire floor of the valley rocked as if jolted by a massive earthquake. Each detonation sent out a gargantuan blast wave that was felt all the way to the team's position high on the ridge. As quickly as it had begun, it ended. The few survivors were left dazed and confused on the valley floor. It would be estimated by the team that fewer than 300 survived America's response to Ori atrocities.

As the Green Beret team moved to head out for the extraction point, Thacker looked back and took one final glance at the destruction they'd wrought on the Ori troops. He thought that for a moment that a twinge of pity had welled up. Almost, not quite however.


	12. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**BLOWBACK**

**United States Capitol **

**Washington, DC**

Jack O'Neill strode confidently into the inner-sanctum of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, though the confidence was always relative in this environment. He'd joked to Daniel that Capitol Hill was now becoming his home away from home. He was now meeting weekly with Members of Congress over the latest tribulations in the universe. The President wanted to keep what allies he had and maybe make some more. Jack knew where he'd rather be and this wasn't it. It wasn't that the committee treated him badly. In fact many of the members, having read much of O'Neill's record, were quite respectful and understanding. Being tortured for your country could have that effect. A couple of them were not as taken with him, mainly due to the fact they were not fans of the SGC or the program in general. The program had rattled a lot of professional politicians, both in the United States and other nations, who correctly saw that a radical reshuffling of the political and social order was bound to happen with disclosure. In his current job Jack was the living embodiment of the coming storm. He didn't relish that part of the job.

Jack watched as his aides set up the needed materials and computer images for the briefing. As he stood waiting he was approached by one of the more aggressive members of the committee, Representative Mike Allen, a Democrat from Wisconsin. Allen had always been polite but had gone after Jack hard on a lot of issues, including the leadership at the SGC. Jack smiled his noncommittal, _I like everybody_ smile and tried to deflect Allen.

"Congressman, so good to see you again. The Brewers look like the real deal this year."

"Well, we'll see. I'm not sure of the pitching we've got." Allen chuckled and then turned quietly serious. "I hope you're bringing us some good news for once. Your last briefing left many of us highly concerned about the direction of events. Some members, including me, are highly concerned with where this administration is going although I'll give the President credit, he's played it smooth so far."

Jack saw the bait and wasn't going to play into it. "Congressman, we're trying our best to face a lot of issues at once. I know the President is highly concerned about disclosure and assuring the American people and our allies that we'll be able to secure a safe future for our kids and maybe spread a few NFL franchises to other planets."

Allen looked at O'Neill and smirked, as if shocked. "Jack, you're getting better at this stuff all the time. George Hammond taught you well."

O'Neill shifted on his heals and took a mock serious tone that belied his thoughts. "Yes, Yoda taught me the Jedi arts well and the force is strong with me." Allen laughed out loud which caught the attention of some of his colleagues on the committee who were just straggling in for the meeting.

There was no laughing to be found 10 minutes later.

"General, what in the name of God did we do?!" This question and its accompanying look of shock came from Representative Carol Malone of New York, who'd been more vocal in her criticism of Hayes and his policies. What was worse for O'Neill were the other shocked looks in the room. On the large plasma screen behind O'Neill were the post-strike photos of the attack on the Ori camp on P6T-245. The images showed the absolute destruction of the Ori camp. Estimates put the number of dead at over 13,000 Priors and troops. Professional politicians loved to know things were getting done; that is until 'getting it done' met 'inconvenient'.

"Madam Congresswoman, we destroyed the Ori's most-forward operating base and a direct threat to the safety and security of this planet. As I told the committee last week, had we allowed this base to continue operating, the Ori would have had a strong foothold in our galaxy and a knife at our throat."

Malone scowled at Jack with a withering look. "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it General. How exactly are we going to go public with this sort of thing going on? I question whether your people at the SGC and the Pentagon have fully thought this out with the White House. It almost appears as if you're on opposing tracks."

_Breathe Jack, breathe._ "Congresswoman, I fully understand the concern you have but we also face a stark choice. These people are coming; there is no doubt as to that fact. They've already attacked us once without provocation. That plague was designed to exterminate as many humans as possible, not only on Earth but in the universe. I'm not a social scientist as Doctor Jackson often reminds me, but I would hope that part of the public reaction would be anger and determination to deter the Ori threat."

"General O'Neill, how do we know that we haven't just provoked the Ori more? The fact is you don't know do you? We may have just slaughtered 13,000 men to kick start a conflict we're not ready for. And may I remind you that it was your personnel who directly confronted these Priors in the first place as they were out proselytizing. Who cares if the Jaffa find a new religion; it can't get much worse than the last one."

"Madam, I have no problem with anyone's religious beliefs unless, as is the case here, those beliefs are used as a cover for a program of conquest. The Ori, through the Priors, aren't simply out peddling beliefs like it's a Mormon mission. Those that refuse their entreaties are being subjugated by force. And they've made it quite clear that that is their intent."

Jack shifted in his seat and tried his best to control his frustrations. He'd had similar debates in the past, even within the SGC and the Pentagon. He knew they had valid concerns but he'd seen enough that he wanted to scream. _They want to harm us! I've been tortured, beaten, shot at, stabbed, probed and assaulted. We need to face up to this sooner rather than later! _Instead he maintained his usual casual air. What he was unprepared for was Malone's blistering assault.

"General, let's review the track record so far. The last administration, with limited input by Congress, experimented with a largely mysterious alien device. The import of the word 'alien' speaks for itself. Once they figured out what it was, they sent you on an irresponsible and dangerous one-way mission for which there was no intelligence and even less common sense. Oh, and while you were at it, they had you take a nuke along."

"Now Madam…" The chairman attempted to cut into Malone's dissertation.He didn't have much success. Once Malone found righteous fury, she was on a roll.

"I'm not through yet, Mister Chairman. Now General, once the Air Force and the White House realized what they'd stumbled upon, what do you people do? Did you stop and reassess? No. You start stumbling and bumbling across the galaxy, hoping to grab some nice shiny toys and justify the ridiculous risks. The DOD started acting like it was the 1970's in South America all over again. For Christ's sake, you started arming Jaffa rebels with little thought! They haven't exactly turned into the nice little democrats you hoped for huh? You cowboys couldn't leave well enough alone so you went out and kick started your own little French Revolution on a galactic scale. You worked to push aside the System Lords with no thought to the future. Now what are we left with? A vacuum into which jump the Ori and the Lucian Alliance, ready to come at us directly and do us harm. I lost people in my district due to that engineered plague and I had to comfort parents who lost sons in that carrier battle group.

Malone seemed to pause, as if catching her herself before going further in her critique of O'Neill and the SGC. Her eyes narrowed as she faced O'Neill. Her voice lowered to a quiet whisper.

"What I want to know General is _what the hell are we supposed to do now?_ The President and the DOD have led us down this primrose path. How do you plan on dealing with this before we find an alien fleet over New York harbor?"

In his heart Jack wanted to fire back; to tell Malone that no one was perfect and that they had done the best they could under the circumstances. But he realized one thing: she was right. They had done a lot of dumb things. They had taken far too many chances. How many times had they told others how to live? To govern? They had played their Jaffa hand and on some occasions gotten burned. The image of Kytano came to mind. Too many times they'd simply handed a stray Jaffa an M-16A2, wished death to various System Lords and hoped for the best. It had been 1980's Afghanistan on an epic scale. Jack looked up at Malone and composed his thoughts. One thing continued to burn in his mind.

She was right.

**Space near the Jaffa Border **

"Captain on the bridge."

Captain Mark Chandler walked onto the bridge of the USS _Intrepid _and stood at the center of all the activity engulfing a ship underway. _Intrepid_, America's newest warship was on its shakedown cruise, checking out new systems and certifying crew members in various tasks. While the US Navy was a latecomer to the SGC's universe, they were catching up with a vengeance. Chandler was emblematic of that catch-up. A career naval aviator and former CO of the super carrier _Abraham Lincoln,_ he'd cross-decked into the F-302 program and served as the first CAG or Commander, Air Group of the Navy's F-302's. Like many within the military, he'd adjusted to the realities of the ever-expanding universe much better than many psychologists had thought the average human would. Except that Chandler wasn't average. Like nearly all other naval aviators, he was imbued with not only a nearly inhuman self-confidence but also with an extraordinary command presence. It was one of the reasons he'd been selected for the assignment.

The _Intrepid_ had been cruising for a week, simultaneously training and showing the flag as Chandler worked his able but new-at-this crew. They were responding pretty well to the new operating environment, having received extensive training on Earth from not only the Navy and Air Force but from the Asgard and other friendly powers such as the Hebridians.

"Status Mister Flanagan?"

"Sir, we're on course for our rendezvous with the _Daedalus_ in twelve hours. All systems are in the green and we've had negative contacts on radar. The threat board is clear."

"Very good. We'll set up for our damage control drill and prep for a…"

"_Bridge, Comm."_

"Go ahead Comm."

"_We're receiving a faint sub-space signal sir. Low strength and in a band used by Jaffa traders. It's broken but I believe it's some sort of distress call. It's emanating from course 220 by 178." _

"Let's here what you've got."

"_To any sh.. Requ.. ..stance. Being attacked by hos.. Possibly Lu.. Alli..."_

"_That's all we could get sir. There's a lot of interference."_

"Understood. Continue monitoring and report any changes."

"_Aye sir."_

"_Bridge, Radar."_

"Go ahead."

"_Sir, we're now picking up multiple contacts. Three contacts seem to be pursuing a fourth. Sensors are detecting energy signatures matching weapons fire. Contacts are approximately 15 light years away on course 220 by 178. The three contacts are an approximate match to Al'kesh according to the warbook."_

"Understood. Designate hostiles as Sierra's One through Three and update me on any course changes."

"_Aye sir."_

Chandler looked over at his executive officer, Commander Alan Howell. Howell already knew what Chandler was thinking and agreed with his assessment. "Lucian Alliance, almost certainly operating in their pack." The Navy had come to a recent insight that was helping them understand how the Lucian Alliance was terrorizing shipping lanes. They had taken a page from Nazi Germany's playbook without realizing it and were having their raiders operate in wolf packs, just as the u-boats of World War Two had done with devastating effect. Three to six Al'kesh would team to assault individual ships or small convoys belonging to smaller powers. Naturally the powers of Earth looked upon this as a natural threat to Earth's future commercial dealings with the universe at-large, post-disclosure.

Chandler blew air with his cheeks and turned to the Officer of the Deck. "How long to intercept?"

"Sir, at current speed 25 minutes."

"Officer of the Deck, sound general quarters and set condition one throughout the ship. Raise shields."

Klaxons blared and red lamps glowed as a Bosun's Mate announced General Quarters to the crew of the _Intrepid_. Crew donned helmets and assumed posts for battle.

The Officer of the Deck turned to Chandler. "Sir, all departments report manned and ready."

"Very good. Captain has the conn. Helm, set new course 220 by 178."

"Course 220 by 178, aye sir."

Chandler walked over to the plotting table and waved Howell and the ship's CAG, Commander Dan Brooker over. Chandler looked over the navigator's plot before turning to Howell. "Alan, we've got a few options here. They'll be detecting us soon and we'll have to commit. If we can get them to run without a shot, so much the better. They've been getting more aggressive lately."

"Sir, I say we launch the alert fighters now and have them ahead and behind in case there are more of these guys. Plus the numbers might spook them into backing off."

Chandler rubbed his chin and nodded. "Yeah, I like it. Dan, get them out there. Also, let's prep an Alpha Strike with anti-ship ordinance. When we're ten minutes out, launch and take up position to cover us or strike them. We'll give them the usual 'King and Country' speech and see how they respond."

"Yes sir."

"Alan, let's get the weapons spun up. I want the rail guns fully charged and load the missile tubes with anti-ship. Load one and two with tactical nukes. Also, have Captain Lozaro come up here." Captain Bill Lozaro commanded _Intrepid_'s marine detachment.

"I'm on it."

Three minutes later Lozaro arrived on the bridge. "Bill, we may have some business for you and your Marines. We're en-route to intercept what we believe are three Lucian Alliance ships attacking a Jaffa vessel. Hopefully we can talk them down, but if we can't I'll need you and your guys ready."

"Understood sir, I've already got Marines posted to the most sensitive areas. Are you thinking of a boarding action?" From the tone of Lozaro's voice it sounded like that was his hope. Chandler nodded.

"Yeah, have a tactical boarding team ready in case they're needed. I'm not going to beam you over unless I think we have a good shot at taking one of them intact. I'm not going to risk it otherwise."

Fifteen minutes later it began. Chandler picked up a corded phone and spoke. "Air Boss, get them in the air."

"_Yes sir."_

The launch bay and air ops crew swung into action as 16 F-302A's from both of _Intrepid_'s fighter squadrons launched. Led by Commander Brooker they formed up into classic four-ship formations surrounding the large warship. Almost immediately, the small force came within communications range of the Lucian ships and their intended target. The Lucian force of three ships continued to harass the Jaffa cargo ship, hoping to capture it intact. Directed energy weapons fired past the cargo vessel. Chandler and the bridge crew watched as the Lucian ships almost seemed to ignore the _Intrepid_ and her fighters.

"Comm, open a channel."

"_Channel open sir."_

"Ships of the Lucian Alliance, this is Captain Mark Chandler of the United States Navy ship _Intrepid_. You are hereby ordered to cease your illegal attack on the Jaffa vessel and remove yourself from this area of space. Please respond."

"_Sir, we're receiving a reply. Audio only."_

"Let's here it."

"_Tau'ri vessel, this is a dangerous region of space and you are not welcome. Do not involve yourself in our business or we will open fire."_

"Captain, what you call your 'dealings', others call simple piracy. I give you one final warning. Cease fire and remove your vessels from the area."

"_Why do you people feel the need to stick your necks where they do not belong? This is a private matter of business. I will say it one last time: leave or we will fire upon you" _

"Piracy is not a private matter of business and what you and your cohorts call sticking our necks out we call rendering aid to the helpless. Now I will tell you one last time: LEAVE THIS AREA OR I"LL BLOW THOSE HEAPS YOU CALL SHIPS OUT OF SPACE."

"_Die well Earther."_

Chandler shook his head at the pathetic chest-puffing of the Alliance captain. "These guys aren't even original with their threats. Enough of this. Weaps, I want firing solutions on all three ships."

"Aye sir."

"_Bridge, Radar."_

"Go ahead."

"_Targets Sierra One and Two are changing heading, moving to intercept us. Sierra Three is continuing to stalk the Jaffa ship. It's... INCOMING WEAPONS FIRE! VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! SIERRA'S ONE AND TWO FIRING!"_

"Helm! Evasive pattern Alpha Two! Order all fighters to break and attack; weapons free!"

"Aye sir!"

The F-302's surrounding the _Intrepid_ suddenly kicked in their thrusters and vectored towards the oncoming Al'kesh. The fighters spread out their formation to minimize the effects of the fire coming from the Lucian ships. Bolts of directed energy shot towards the fighters, who weaved to avoid it. As the ships approached the CAG started directing his pilots.

"We'll break by section. Hit them with anti-ship and watch for any Death Gliders. Vikings One, Two and Three, break, break, break!"

With that the first four fighters banked in and homed in on the first Al'kesh. Brooker fired an anti-ship missile followed by the others of his flight. The weapons were no ordinary missile but the brand new AIM-120S AMRAAM or advanced medium range air-to-air missile. Originally developed by the Raytheon Corporation for use by NATO atmospheric fighters, the S version was developed to fulfill the special needs of the SGC and the services for the F-302 in space combat. It carried a much larger warhead and better avionics. It was deadly against Death Gliders and Al'kesh. The Lucian ships rapidly found out how deadly the missile could be.

Four missiles found the first Al'kesh and crumpled her nose dramatically causing massive decompression in most of the ship. Its firing ceased immediately and it fell into an uncontrolled spin. The second Al'kesh had little time to react as its captain found himself targeted by no less than eight missiles. Before he could react the ship was hit simultaneously from nose to stern. The resulting explosion surprised even the Navy aircrews in its ferocity.

Brooker signaled the _Intrepid_. "Strike Leader to Home Plate. Splash two. Say again, splash two. Reforming for the third."

"_Copy Strike Leader. Form up to our starboard and cover our flank. We'll be engaging as we come into range."_

"Copy Home Plate."

On the bridge of the _Intrepid_, Captain Chandler decided to either force the third ship to surrender or damage it enough to capture it. As they approached the Al'kesh, Chandler decided what to do.

"Weaps, target their engines with one anti-ship missile. Target rail guns as they bear on the ship's rear."

"Aye sir."

As the Intrepid approached its intended target a single missile streaked from its launch tube and homed in on the Al'kesh's engine. The Al'kesh attepted to evede it but failed as a large explosion rocked the rear of the ship and almost pitched it on its nose. Immediately, it slowed to a crawl and lost some attitude control and pitched slightly to its port side. Its firing stopped as well. Chandler and his bridge crew looked on as the ship settled into its position.

"Comm, signal the Al'kesh to surrender immediately."

"_No response sir."_

Like any good commander, Chandler quickly weighed his options and the risks in his head and decided to play the bet. He'd roll for it all.

"Sensors, does that ship still have life support?"

"Affirmative sir. We're detecting five life signs, all human or human-like. Possibly Jaffa."

Chandler activated his communications earpiece. "Captain Lozano, you have a go. Secure the ship and report what you find."

"_Yes sir."_

Moments later 11 Marines and one Navy Corpsman beamed onto the Al'kesh's common area aft of the bridge and formed into a defensive ring. Sparks flew from damaged panels and there was a stench of burning materials wafting through the ship. Captain Lozano silently used hand signals to direct his Marines. They had practiced this drill hundreds of times. He directed them toward the bridge.

_Stack up, right side. Prepare to breach._

The Marine squad stacked up and the sergeant acting as point man activated the door to the bridge. As it opened he threw in a flash bang. With a thunderous clap, it exploded and the first squad of American Marines stormed onto the bridge. They were confronted be a Lucian soldier with a Zat recovering from the stun grenade. Well-placed shots from a Marine's MP-5 submachine gun tore into his chest and he slumped to the deck. Suddenly, another Lucian crew member rose from across the bridge…

"Contact left!"

The fourth Marine in the door carried the M1014 Combat Shotgun. He swung it around and fired repeatedly, striking the Lucian soldier in the chest and face with 12 gauge buckshot and killing him almost instantly. As this was happening the third and final Lucian member was found dazed and lying on the deck. A swift kick to the head knocked him out completely and he was quickly fitted with plastic restraints.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Room clear."

"Lozano to _Intrepid_, bridge secured. Moving out."

"_Copy. You have two more aft of your position near the engineering spaces,"_

"Copy. Moving to engage."

Captain Lozano quickly looked around and had his men form up. "Squad One, hold the bridge. Doc, stay here with our prisoner. Everyone else form up. We've got two more on the ship to handle."

The Marines, decked out in their black, brown and green MARPAT digital camouflage, formed two stacks, exited the bridge and continued down the main passageway. Methodically they cleared the passageway and its adjoined spaces until they came to the door for the engineering spaces. Silently they stacked and prepared to breach the doorway. On Lozano's signal a Marine activated the door and like the bridge, tossed in a flash bang grenade. Acting on instinct, the Marines stormed in looking for threats. What they found was different.

Both Lucian crewmen were huddled on the deck, weapons lying nearby but both in a state of shock. The Marines moved quickly and roughly laid both out and cuffed them. They were searched for weapons and then sat up. Each appeared to be astonished and utterly confused. One looked up at Lozaro, cocked his head and croaked, "Who are you people? Tau'ri?"

Lozaro simply looked over at the prisoner and smiled. "No, United States Marines."

Hours later, Captain Chandler sat in his stateroom, preparing his report for the SGC and the NMCC. The operation, though unexpected, had gone well. No sailors or Marines had been injured. The Jaffa on the Tel'tak cargo ship were only slightly injured and were more than grateful for the assistance. The three prisoners would be taken to the Beta Site for a hearing to determine their status. Chandler knew that most likely they'd be turned over to the Jaffa government on Dakara which meant a death sentence or lengthy prison term.

For the _Intrepid_'s first taste of hostile action, it had gone well. Chandler was just finishing up when his door buzzed.

"Enter."

Commander Howell entered carrying a stack of papers and a concerned look on his face. He didn't even wait for Chandler to say anything.

"Sir, the tech team we sent over managed to access the Al'kesh's computer records. Lieutenant Sheridan and the intel guys found this. You better have a look."

Chandler took the papers from Howell and began to read. A few sentences into it Chandler looked up at Howell. "Jesus Christ. Are they sure they got the translation right?"

"Yes sir. They ran it through the system at least five times."

"If this is right, we've got some problems. Get me a line to fleet operations ASAP."

"Yes sir."

Howell exited the stateroom as Chandler continued to look down at the papers. He knew what he had in his hand. Trouble, nothing less than big trouble.

**Stargate Command**

Major General Landry was standing in his office putting on his Class A uniform jacket, festooned as it was with the awards and decorations accumulated during his career when Colonels Glyndon and Carter arrived at his door. He beat them to the punch.

"I know, I'm coming now. I can't seem to escape this office."

Both colonels chuckled knowing how true that statement was. They'd seen how much the job of running the SGC could wear on anyone, man or woman. Carter piped up.

"The ambassadors are just arriving to the gate room. I think they smell opportunity on this one."

"Gee, I'm shocked. A technologically advanced society with close connections to Earth willing to sit down and talk? One that also can and will kill Priors? I'm surprised they're not down there killing each other to be the first to kiss these Roman's asses."

"Well sir, even I think this one is pretty intriguing. I have to say, for newbie's at this, the British have handled it well. I always did like working with them."

Glyndon agreed. "Yeah, they've adapted well Even the Jaffa like working with them. It must be all the training they get for peacekeeping missions."

"Well, they're going to earn their keep on this one. The IOA is letting the British Foreign Office act as point for this one. Apparently, the Prime Minister lobbied the President and the Russians on it. All part of the big plan to turn us into the UN I bet."

Glyndon rolled his eyes. "Great, because that's been working so well up to now."

All three walked out of Landry's office and marched down the barren concrete halls toward the Gate Room. Military personnel rushed by, focused on what was becoming an ever-increasing operations tempo at the SGC. The arrival they were on their way to handle had been high on their plates for over two weeks. That's how long it had taken to gain some trust from the mysterious Roman-like soldiers discovered on P7R-188. Almost daily, a team of British soldiers would escort British and American diplomats back to the planet to meet with the Roman soldiers. Eventually these soldiers brought their own diplomats and serious discussions had gotten underway. The process had taken a while but it had born fruit.

The Romans, from a civilization they called Roman Terra, were very proper in their conduct and at first, very reticent to reveal much about their world or government. They were, however, extremely interested in Earth and in the Goa'uld. The British and American diplomats had answered a seemingly unending litany of questions about the System Lords and their current disposition. As for Earth, the answers were of the generic and benign persuasion. The SGC had decided not to reveal that much until more could be learned about the Romans and their intentions. While no one mourned for the now-deceased Prior, the treatment he'd received from the Roman soldiers left many in the diplomatic section with unease.

Landry and the two colonels walked into the gate room to find things nearly ready. Two rows of pristinely outfitted and buffed personnel stood in formation as the honor guard for the arrival. Various diplomats including American Ambassador Mulhern stood in one corner waiting. Each appeared relaxed; Landry quietly chuckled knowing it was an act. The diplomats were being pressured as much as the military was. The combined governments were getting desperate for allies against the Ori and that desperation was manifesting itself in more scrutiny of the SGC's operations.

Landry walked over to Mulhern and smiled. "Kate, I think we'll earn our money today."

"I hope so. The reports from our team have been encouraging. I'm particularly interested in what level of political and technical development they've achieved. If they are some sort of lost cousin from the Roman Empire, I'll want to see…" Mulhern was interrupted by the sudden activation of the stargate with its telltale dialing sequence.

"Well, we're about to find out."

The gate's wormhole formed as personnel rushed to take up their assigned places for the arrival. The honor guard snapped to attention as the iris opened. Soon enough, figures emerged from the event horizon, revealing four British commandos in full field kit. Everyone waited and then the moment came.

The first to emerge were four men of a younger age in some sort of military uniform. It was made up of grey pants and top, piped with maroon and having a high color similar to that of a US Marine Corps dress uniform. Each also had a sash of red across their top and sword at their side. They were unsmiling, although not in a hostile way but appeared to be highly disciplined. Two took up a position on each side of the ramp leading from the gate.

Finally, an older male appeared, dressed in a charcoal colored suit of a sort. It had a high color also and appeared tailored for the wearer. The older male was followed by a small group of men and one or two women dressed in a similar fashion. What caught Landry's eye was that one carried something familiar. It was fasces. Landry remembered enough from high school and college history to recognize the symbolism. Fasces were a traditional symbol of Roman authority in the ancient world. Basically a bundle of rods secured with a red ribbon, it was such a well known symbol of authority that there was a pair on the wall of the United States House of Representatives as well as many other places. At that moment, Landry knew that this would be no ordinary first contact.

The older male stopped at the bottom of the ramp and scanned the room. He had a short haircut and a slightly olive complexion with a hint of gray at his temples. He locked eyes on Landry and the diplomatic party. Everyone nervously shifted and before anyone said anything, the older Roman broke the ice. He smiled.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**Stargate Command**

Samantha Carter had to admit that for once, she was glad to not be in charge. As a professional soldier and scientist, she was at heart a control freak who loved to be part of everything that went on. Her years at the SGC had only reinforced this quirk of her rather large intellect, empowered as it was from being asked to step up and save the day on many an occasion. Now however, she was just as comfortable taking a back seat for this particular first contact situation. She had watched as the diplomats and generals greeted the visiting dignitaries, protocol being carefully observed throughout, as if fearful of a disastrous faux pas. In all her years at the SGC, she'd always wanted to ask: _How would aliens know the proper protocol?_ It was one of the small things that made her smirk and would traditionally elicit some sort of funny retort from Jack if he'd been there.

The Roman diplomats and soldiers had been escorted to the conference and reception room where they'd been shown to one side of the large mahogany table. Sam studied the newcomers with eyes trained by dozens of first contact situations over more than a decade. What she saw impressed her. They obviously understood protocol of a sort and were comfortable with unfamiliar situations, as evidenced by their calm demeanor and dignified bearing. They had said little upon arriving except to introduce themselves and bring the greetings of their government.

The three leading members of the Roman delegation took their seats with the rest sitting behind them. The apparent leader, introduced as Ambassador Spurius Albius Celsus, sat at the center with the two others on either side. They appeared cautious in demeanor but not suspicious.

Facing them were Ambassador Mulhern, General Landry, Richard Woolsey representing the IOA and finally British envoy Sir Michael Lansdowne. Since the British had been the first to contact the Romans, they were front and center in the talks. The British government had been pushing hard for a greater stake in the SGC and its dealings and now was their time.

Ambassador Landsdowne turned and nodded to the translator, in this case the very in-demand Doctor Falls, making sure he was ready. Turning back to the Romans, Landsdowne began his speech. He planned to keep his statements brief and simple both to make translation easier and to avoid any misunderstandings.

"Ambassadors, we are pleased to welcome you to our world in peace. Earth is a planet of many sovereign nations and we are honored that you have come here so that we may open relations in the spirit of peace and cooperation." He waited for the translation to catch up before continuing.

"The nations of Earth look forward to sharing the wonders of the universe with all of the peoples who populate it. It is in that spirit that we look forward to our discussions as we both become familiar to the other."

The lead Roman listened as Doctor Falls finished. Then he began speaking with Falls doing the Latin-to-English translation.

"_On behalf of the Emperor and the Senate of Roman Terra, I bring greetings and respect. We also look forward to our conversations with you and your governments in the spirit of cooperation. I am sure that both parties have numerous questions of each other as our peoples have not crossed paths before. I must also commend your diplomats for their mastery of our language; needless to say, we are intrigued as to your knowledge of it."_

From the back row, Carter watched, hoping that things would go smoother than some of her other first contacts. She took a moment to get a deeper sense of the Roman delegation. The Ambassador, Celsus, struck Carter as an experienced and smooth type. All of his movements had a certain grace to it that seemed bred in, probably as part of a noble family of some sort. Something about him made the word _politician_ jump into her mind. She could just tell that he lived their version of the good life, whatever that entailed.

The others struck her almost the same way. They seemed almost aristocratic in their mannerisms and in how they carried themselves. Even the soldiers and military officers that accompanied the diplomats had that sense about them. The military types also appeared to be well conditioned to the point of being professional athlete quality. They cut an impressive and professional appearance. She brought her attention back to the diplomats as Lansdowne spoke again.

"We appreciate your kind words Ambassador, and with your permission, we will give you some background information on Earth and its people. We believe that the more people know of each other, the less the chances for misunderstandings. Ambassador Mulhern of the United States of America will be briefing you."

"_Of course Ambassador. We are very interested to hear of your people."_

Lansdowne looked over at Mulhern and nodded, giving her the green light to begin. The IOA nations had debated back and forth over how much to reveal in First Contact situations. As usual, it was a very fine line. They knew that to a certain extent, the Romans would think they were lying or leaving large chunks out. It was just the way of things.

"Ambassador, ladies and gentlemen, the people of Earth are justly proud of our long history and diverse cultures. We are a world of over 150 separate sovereign nations, though we share the same aspirations and hopes. The nations of Earth…" Mulhern continued her briefing for another 15 minutes, covering topics such as the United Nations, the IOA, Earth's recent history and the Stargate Program. Then she came to the delicate subject that was hanging in the room. "Ambassador, you and your party have asked us about our knowledge of your language. There is a very good reason why we know the language well. If I may, I would like one of our leading experts in languages, history and archeology, Doctor Daniel Jackson, explain this to you. Doctor Jackson?"

Daniel came forward, dressed rather snappily in an expensive suit and brought up a PowerPoint slide. It contained three photos of Roman ruins near Naples as well as the remains of Rome's Forum.

"Ambassador, the language you and your people speak is what we call _Latin_. It has its roots in the area of our world we call the Mediterranean Basin. It came into widespread use with the rise of…" Daniel stopped when he noticed the Ambassador's eyes flare slightly at the sight of the PowerPoint photos. A couple of his aides were not as disciplined as him and were practically gaping at the slide on the screen and whispering to each other. Jackson didn't miss a beat.

"You recognize these places?"

"_Doctor Jackson, where are these images from?"_

"These images are of ruins within the nation of Italy. Italy and its capital city, Rome, were the center of an ancient and vast empire known as the Roman Empire. _Pax Romana_. The Roman Empire at one time controlled a quarter of the Earth's surface approximately two thousand of our years ago."

"_You said Rome?"_ The look on the Ambassador's face grew more animated. It was obvious to the Earth contingent that this information had struck a nerve.

"Yes, Ambassador. Rome today is a vibrant city of millions with an amazing history. We call it the Eternal City. Judging by the name of your planet and your reaction to this information, you know of what I speak." Jackson continued for a few minutes, relating the history of Rome and her people, from Punic Wars to the Fall.

Ambassador Celsus looked towards the assembled Earth delegation and offered a slight smile, that of a shocked man taking in his changed circumstance. It was also obvious that members of his contingent were trying to hold in their emotions. As the Earthers would later appreciate, he adapted rather quickly.

"_Ambassadors, I apologize if I seem to be asking a large amount of questions; however it is not every day that a people potentially discover a large chunk of their missing past, almost by accident. Yes, I believe we are related to your past empire. That is our history, thought lost by thousands of years and the tragedy of aggression. I am stunned almost beyond words. We never thought we'd see this day. Please allow me to relate a story, that of how we came to be the people we are. _

"_Our history, passed down through the years and remembered by every citizen, speaks of an unspeakable crime, that of the mass kidnapping of our ancestors from another world and a land known as the Roman Republic. Our ancestors were taken by a power beyond their limited and ancient comprehension posing we know now as a god from the pantheon of the land of Ptolemy. They were taken to what is now our world and put to forced labor, along with other people of their world that they had never dreamed of, let alone met. Thousands were worked to the point of death to please an arrogant and evil race. In this struggle to survive, men of immense talent planned and let a revolt. This revolt led to the false god leaving our world and a rebirth for our people. It wasn't easy for them but their sacrifice has led us to be the power we are now."_

One part of Celsus' description caught Daniel's attention: the land of Ptolemy. Egypt. The Ptolemy's ruled Egypt in the centuries following its conquest by Alexander the Great. For Jackson, the story made enormous sense. The only question was which Goa'uld had done the deed.

Carter could only silently and internally nod at the tale, having heard something similar on many other worlds in many other parts of the galaxy. In never got easier for her to hear. Another group, cut off and abused by the Goa'uld, was left to make their own way in the galaxy. The legacy of the Goa'uld's brutality was coming home to all in stories like this one. 

"_That item of technology in the other room, which I am told you call a 'stargate', we call the 'Arch'. At one time it was called 'The Arch of Sorrow' and its mere mention sent shudders through our people for all the pain that our ancestors suffered. For hundreds of years it remained buried with no thought to ever unearthing it. However, in recent years, our leaders decided that we needed to meet the challenge, to be ready when evil of that type visits again. Part of it was the natural curiosity about our origins. That is why we have begun to search out the skies; little did we know that we might find our past so quickly. _

Celsus sighed and looked over at each of the ambassadors individually before speaking again.

"_Obviously, we would want to confirm all of this and exchange more information, but I do ask humbly, on behalf of the government of Roman Terra, that we be allowed to continue our dialogue and possibly arrange a visit to some of the historical sites that you have mentioned and view the historical record."_

Ambassador Lansdowne, who'd been taking in the story along with everyone else, looked over at his fellow diplomats and received nods. "I can say that the governments who make up the International Oversight Advisory would be more than happy to assist you in discovering your nation's past and we hope, in forging close relations between our worlds." He stood and offered his hand.

Ambassador Celsus rose and with a broad grin reached out and accepted it. Carter and Daniel had an identical thought though neither knew of the other: the universe had just changed a small amount again

**Atlantis**

"This is turning into a monumental pain in the ass, even for me, skilled as I am."

It was rapidly turning into a normal day in the Earth-occupied outpost, meaning that Doctor Rodney McKay was having another of his requisite fits. By now the more senior members of the expedition, both civilian and military, had taken to ignoring or laughing off his bouts of self-importance. They knew that at the end of the day it was just the way his personality rolled, even if it could drive them nuts. A few of the team's amateur psychologists had hypothesized that it was his coping mechanism for a vast well of insecurity. This had of course led to further debates about McKay, all ultimately useless as everyone with an opinion agreed that he wasn't about to change.

For his part, Major Scott Lorne had learned to deal with McKay a while back. He had learned to tune out the doctor whenever he felt the need to remind others how truly brilliant he was. During his time with the SGC, he'd dealt with all sorts and had come to know that at some point McKay would probably save his ass from some calamity involving technology gone badly. It didn't mean that he liked spending too much time with him however and today counted.

The control center at Atlantis had been experiencing problems with its display systems for days and no one had managed to solve the issue to satisfaction. After taking a deep breath, Lorne decided to risk the migraine headache and have McKay look at the problem. He needed everything back in shape as they were expecting Weir and others to return from Earth and he wanted a clean slate to report.

"Well doctor, just tell me it'll be fixed today and I'll be a happy man."

"I'm getting to it. This display is so jacked up; you probably had the grunts playing with it, didn't you?"

Another thing Lorne had learned to live with was McKay's baiting of the military personnel, unless of course some Wraith foot soldier was stalking him, in which case the U.S. Marines were his best friends. Lorne could only laugh at that because he knew that at the end of the day, McKay, no matter how much he huffed and puffed would give the shirt off his back to one of them. That thought rolled around in his mind as he watched McKay pulled a series of wires from underneath a control consol, looking for the cause of the malfunction.

As Lorne watched McKay, he saw another scientist walk by with a withering look at Lorne, another member of the I-hate-the-military club. It had recently gotten to the point that Lorne wondered whether he'd insulted someone's mother. Lorne knew only one thing that was certain, he was getting sick and tired of certain attitudes around the city. Maybe he'd just spent too much time here and was due for a trip home. He wasn't entirely sure but he knew that some of the civilians were certainly getting on his nerves. Just the other day a biologist had encountered one of his troopers, a highly decorated Air Force Combat Controller, and without any provocation, asked why he was there and not out killing small kids. It had taken all of the airman's restraint not to throttle the moron on the spot.

He wasn't sure where this wellspring of dislike was coming from. He thought maybe it was Iraq and the political bitterness back home but he couldn't put a finger on it. He'd told the military personnel to continue on as normal and not react to it but it was getting harder. He knew that Sheppard and Weir would have to deal with it sooner or later, hopefully the former. He'd been concerned at first that Weir would never take the concerns of military personnel seriously but had found her to have come to respect the military a lot more than she had ever been given credit for.

"Hey doc, while you're down there, why don't you install a good surround system? We can have movie night in operations."

"Funny. What do I look like, Radio Shack?"

Lorne couldn't resist. "Actually, you look like Dilbert, patron saint of engineers."

"It's a good thing I like you Major, or I might play around with the environmental controls in your room. You might like a little arctic…" McKay was suddenly interrupted by the technician manning Gate Control, a sergeant from the Royal Canadian Air Force.

"Incoming wormhole!"

Lorne's training kicked in. "Close the shield and alert the defense team!"

As Lorne watched, the gate came to life with the tell-tale sign of an incoming wormhole. Just as quickly, Atlantis' gate shield took affect and a squad of troops took up defensive positions preparing to repel hostile forces. This exact scenario was practiced every day and had been sharpened.

"We're receiving a transmission. It's an IDC showing as the SGC."

"Confirm that."

"Confirmed."

"Lower the shield."

Lorne left the confines of the operations area and made his way down the steps. It wasn't all that surprising. The _Daedelus_ was due back from Earth at any time and supplies were probably being shipped in, Lorne reasoned. The Atlantis operation required large amounts of supplies, both in equipment and provisions to operate. It surprised him slightly when he saw what started coming through.

A line of armed troops began coming through, carrying multiple rucksacks and sea bags as well as their personal weapons. Lorne recognized the uniforms; they were the green MARPAT camouflage of the US Marine Corps. A Marine officer strode forward to Lorne, came to a stop and rendered a parade ground perfect salute.

"Major John Lassiter, Alpha Company, Second Marine Special Operations Battalion."

"Major Scott Lorne, United States Air Force, welcome to Atlantis."

"Thanks, we've been looking forward to coming. I'm still in awe. I'm really on another planet right now?" Lassiter gazed around at the area with stunned bemusement.

Lorne chuckled. "Absolutely, as well as being in another galaxy." Lorne watched as more Marines continued to pile through the gate into the reception area. "Major, we had no idea you were coming. Did they deploy your entire company?"

"You bet. You haven't seen the half of it yet. There's a lot more about to pile through that gate and there's more coming on _Daedelus_ and some other ships. Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard should be coming at any time. He was organizing things back at the SGC."

Lorne was thunderstruck. "What's happened Major?"

Lassiter turned towards Lorne after watching some of his Marines, all combat veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan, come through the gate.

"The politicians have decided to play chess instead of checkers."

Fifteen minutes later, Major Lorne found himself hurriedly handling the logistical work of so many incoming personnel. He found himself back in the gate room as Sheppard came through with another soldier Lorne had never seen before. Suddenly he panicked as he saw the man's rank. He wore the ACU uniform of the United States Army and the red beret of the airborne and had the star of a brigadier general affixed to his chest. Now it was Lorne's turn to render the perfect salute.

Sir, Major Scott Lorne, United States Air Force, welcome to Atlantis!"

"At ease Major. I'm Brigadier General John Birmingham. Are you the duty officer at the moment?"

"Yes sir. We're currently working to handle the influx of personnel and equipment."

"Very good, I know we've sprung this on you with no warning but we'll get it done. What I need you to do is make note for all records that as off…" Birmingham looked at his watch. "1945 Zulu, I am taking command of Forward Operating Base Atlantis and all US and coalition forces assigned per order. Is that understood?"

Lorne blinked in shock but recovered quickly. "Yes sir."

"Good, I want you to set up a formation of all Atlantis military personnel not manning a post or away on a mission for 0900 Zulu tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

With that, Birmingham turned to Sheppard with an excited twinkle in his eye.

"Alright Colonel, let's get to work."

"Yes sir."

The next morning found a large formation of military personnel waiting on one of Atlantis' piers, a sense of anticipation in the air. The vast majority had arrived in the last 24 hours and were still taking the imposing sight of the massive city-island in the middle of a clear blue sea. The formation was a mix of various uniforms, the patterns of the US Army, Marines, Air Force and Navy, along with Russian, British, French, Canadian, German and others. To anyone well-versed in military affairs, it resembled something seen in Bosnia or Afghanistan but not in another galaxy. The looming question was whether all these separate forces, with their distinct training and tactics could work closely together or for that matter, how long their governments would let them. Only time would tell.

The ceremony began with the usual tradition. The order placing General Birmingham in charge of the forces stationed at Atlantis was read and Doctor Weir said a few words. Finally, Birmingham rose to the podium and began to speak.

"I am a man of modest words and brevity. I will not waste our valuable time with empty words. I look around and I see a gathering of professionals, whether they are scientists, diplomats or soldiers. For those of us in uniform, the mission is clear and it is noble. We are the protectors, the guardians of those who do so much to help mankind. The scientist is here to expand human knowledge and make life better for even the smallest and weakest of us, especially them. I am in awe of the wonders they illuminate to the rest of us.

"Diplomats, those that work tirelessly to bridge the moat of misunderstanding and mistrust, face their own challenge. I have told Doctor Weir many times of my sheer admiration for their tenacity and their never-ending belief in humanity's better nature. It is this belief that will one day lead to a better universe for all and a better world for our children.

"For those of us that wear the uniform, our mission and goal is different. We are the line, the line that we tell those who mean us ill not to cross. For the scientists and diplomats to be successful, they must have a secure environment. That is why we are here. This city, this gift to humanity, must thrive and for it to do so we will walk that line. You have all been briefed on the threats. I assure you all that they are real and not some creation of an overactive imagination. But like all life, it will learn its limits.

"I see so many uniforms. US Marine infantry, Russian paratroopers, British air defense troops, German engineers, French and American medics and special operators from a dozen nations. Almost two thousand troops in all. Many nations with one mission. Hold the line, it's that simple. We must work as one, not only to defend this city and this expedition, but to show the inhabitants of this far-flung galaxy that hope is a real thing and tomorrow can be better. Now let's get to work."

As Birmingham walked off the podium, many soldiers were surprised. _That's all he's going say? _Most were used to generals who loved to talk. It was their first indication that Birmingham was different. He was met at the bottom of the stage by Lt. Col. Sheppard and Birmingham's newly appointed Vice-Commander, Russian Colonel Marko Vadayev.

"Let's get the senior staff together and start planning long-term ops."

"Yes, General. What's first on the agenda?"

"These Genii guys. The IOA has a message for them. There's a debt of blood to be paid."


	14. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**Atlantis**

The door to the interview room opened with a slight creak, though it was nothing considering its age. It was older than any manmade object on Earth. The young woman entered, looking young and aware, led by a fully geared member of the US Air Force's Security Forces branch, just one of the many newcomers to the city. She was dressed in a grey jump suit that did her looks no favors and her hair was wrapped in a pony tail. The woman was not bound by any restraints; they were far past that. She was more of a prisoner in name only now, having shown that she had a keen interest in repairing the breach between her people and the Earth contingent. The long-term members of the expedition had come to have genuine affection for her and her for them. She wasn't completely trusted and probably never would be. Not after being part of the initial assault on the city, one that had nearly led to its destruction and the death of so many.

She wasn't sure what to make of the situation any more. It was too unreal to her to care and she was mentally tired of constantly analyzing the angles, looking to see where each person was coming from. She had been highly dubious of these people since first meeting them. They were new, not jaded by the ways of this galaxy and far too idealistic for her liking. But she had to admit, they had an infectious optimism that grew on you. Not all of them, but many. And their technological prowess was formidable.

Lately, she'd been shown pictures and videos of their home planet, this 'Earth'. She still didn't know what to make of it. An entire world devoid of worrying about the Wraith? It seemed too much for her; like a youthful temptation that would only result in massive disappointment and hurt feelings. She really did want to see this 'Paris' in a nation called 'France' however. Its graceful buildings and wide streets -if the videos could be believed- appealed to her. She had watched hours of movies about the great cities of Earth and that one appealed to her the most. The Earthers boasted of it having great palaces and halls filled with art. She wasn't sure what would happen though she guessed that her colleagues presumed her dead by now. In reality, she guessed that she was dead to them none the less.

She was shown to a chair and motioned to sit. Once she did she found herself facing a new character in her restricted universe. She was sure of it; she'd never seen him before. In the few seconds she had, she used her skills to size him up. He was older, maybe in his 40's, with a very short haircut and piercing eyes. He had an average physique, though she could tell that he was in excellent shape. He wore a strange uniform she had seen more of in the last few days. It said _US ARMY_ on one chest and _BIRMINGHAM_ on the other and was of a green-grey-beige combination. He had an unsmiling but not hostile demeanor to him. It almost struck her as if he had bigger things on his mind than her but wasn't uncaring. She noticed Lt. Col. Sheppard standing in one corner, his perpetual smirk evident, with another soldier in a green and black uniform that she'd also seen more of. Her assessment was stopped when he started to speak.

"My name is Brigadier General John Birmingham, United States Army, the newly appointed commander of Task Force Atlantis. You would be Sora?

"Yes."

"You were a member of an elite Genii assault team commanded by an officer named Commander Acastus Koyla?"

"Yes I was."

Birmingham looked down at the desk in front of him. Sora could see there was a folder with multiple pages inside and attached to it was a photo. It was hers, taken by the Earthers after her capture.

"I will cut to the chase, as we say on Earth. I am told by many, including Doctor Weir, Colonel Sheppard and Miss Emmagen, that you have been nothing but a model prisoner, and desire nothing more than peace between our peoples. They tell me you've grown fond of us and would even like to see Earth. I trust their judgment, but let me make a few things clear. You were part of an assault on this city that resulted in the cold-blooded murder of two airman of the United States Air Force. I say cold-blooded murder because I find the ruse of impersonating refugees only to draw automatic weapons to be nothing but the act of cowards." Birmingham watched as Sora's face flushed red. _Good._

"Now, as a professional soldier and member of the special operations community, I can appreciate and understand when a commander thinks outside the box, so to speak. Except when you openly violate the Laws of War. That little stunt would have gotten you thrown into prison for the rest of your life on Earth."

Sora just looked at Birmingham. _Laws of War?_

"Now, you want a clean slate? A chance to atone and maybe make a new life for yourself? I promise to help you all that I can. But to do that I need your help. I have to convince my superiors that you really are what people here have come to think of you as."

"You want me to supply information." It wasn't a question.

"Yes I do, especially about your colleague Commander Koyla."

"Do you realize what you're asking?" The pained look on her face said it all.

"First, I'm not asking. Secondly, yes, as professional soldier I know all too well the bonds among members of a unit. However, your former commander is becoming an issue. More than just an issue, he's dangerous. See, the governments of my world want peaceful relations with your people; there's enough discord out there without adding to it. He is not interested in that. Even your government isn't too thrilled with Koyla's antics. Third, the Wraith are the real issue. They are the ones who can end all life in this galaxy. Every minute Koyla keeps people focused on him is another minute someone else ends up on a dinner plate. For me, that's a problem. I would think that you'd agree about that. It really is that simple."

"So, will you help us?"

For her there was only one analogy and that was of the caged animal. It was obvious that this Birmingham was not offering her many options. She knew Koyla was dangerous, she'd seen it long before the raid on the city and her ultimate capture. She wasn't going to debate that with the Earthers. In that moment, Sora realized that her old life, that of a proud soldier and citizen of the Genii, was as dead as the Ancients who'd built this advanced city and its wonders. She had to start a new life and now was the moment to kick it off.

**M6R-533**

"I'm telling you, there's a lot of talk. Many are worried." The man clearly looked ill at ease.

"Please, we've been dodging the Wraith for hundreds of years, not to mention all the others. Just because one reconnaissance team goes missing doesn't mean the world is ending." His colleague was not nearly as bothered.

"It's not that, it's just that those were four of our best and they were supposed to be checking a world near those pests at the ancient city."

The second man just snorted. "Those fools aren't good enough or foolish enough to attack us. There aren't enough of them as it is. They're just angering the Wraith."

"That's what our predecessors thought and look what their military leader, that Sheppard, did to them. Sora is still missing and thought dead. Don't let Commander Koyla hear you speak like that!"

"You worry like an old woman!"

The two men, soldiers of the Genii, had drawn the thankless duty of guarding the stargate tonight. They hated it. They had trained for years to be part of Koyla's strike force, dedicated themselves to the highest level of physical and mental conditioning, yet like all soldiers the universe over, they hated the mundane. Guarding the stargate was certainly one of those things. The rest of the unit was bedded down for the night in their concrete buildings, well camouflaged against detection. They had been on watch for four hours and the time was literally crawling by. Boredom is the great enemy of soldiers and they were fighting it on this night. They wouldn't have been so bored if they knew what was above them.

One hundred miles up in the outer atmosphere a dozen of Atlantis' cloaked Puddle Jumpers made their way towards the target, their holds full of a strike force composed of US Marines and Russian paratroopers from the 76th Air Assault Division. In addition, the force included a strike team of US Air Force Special Tactics operators. For them, this mission was personal. They were dressed in full combat load, faces painted dark as night, night-vision goggles mounted to their helmets.

Sheppard, piloting the lead Jumper, turned his head and nodded to the strike commander, Marine Major Lassiter. "Two minutes out. Sensors show the LZ as clear."

"Roger that." Lassiter activated his comm. net. "Payback Six Actual, two minutes out."

The small armada of Jumpers descended rapidly and started skimming the tree line, their Ancient-designed propulsion speeding them along silently through the darkness. With their cloaks activated they were invisible to the naked eye and to radar, not that Koyla's men had it. It was the perfect tool for hostile insertion. Sheppard kept a practiced eye on his readouts; he'd done this hundreds of times in places like Afghanistan and the Philippines.

"Thirty seconds."

The Jumpers, like their helicopter cousins of Earth, flared up and then dove for the landing zone, in this case an open field one mile from the Genii outpost. Sheppard's was the first to touch ground.

"We're down. Good luck Major. Semper Fi!"

Lassiter looked back and smiled, his white teeth glistening against the backdrop of his blackened face. The Americans and Russians streamed out of the Jumpers and formed up into their designated teams, just as they'd rehearsed back at Atlantis. As they did so, each lowered and activated his night-vision, turning the world into lit shades of amplified green. The plan had been in the works for a while waiting for the latest intel, each section training for their part.

"Payback Six Actual to all units. Move to positions and signal readiness."

Four separate teams moved out in the darkness to execute their part of the plan. The site, surveyed earlier from a cloaked Jumper, was actually next to the stargate and easily accessible. Set in an open clearing in a wooded forest, Koyla's force sheltered in four large concrete pillboxes that were camouflaged with foliage and quiet at this late hour, the men sleeping. They had obviously set up such a small camp never thinking that it would be discovered by the Wraith or anyone else. They had never thought the few on Atlantis would come at them.

Quietly, two of the assault teams took up positions at the edge of the forest and set up their heavier weapons. It was a mix of machine guns, RPG's and other anti-tank and anti-personnel weaponry. Needless to say, the Genii hadn't seen any of it in their previous dealings with the Atlantis Expedition. This lack of concern was obvious in the two soldiers guarding the stargate. They lounged on chairs by the gate, their weapons propped nearby and a small fire burning. The fire took away their night vision, an added bonus to the assault teams.

"_Payback One in position."_

"_Payback Two in position."_

"_Payback Three in position."_

"_Payback Four in position."_

Major Lassiter listened as each of his teams reported their readiness for the assault. They wanted Koyla alive but in Lassiter's view, as well as the view of many men, dead was just as preferable. Lassiter took one last scan of the area through his NVG's and got the operation moving.

"Payback One, Payback Six Actual. Execute, Execute."

"_Payback One copy."_

Lassiter watched to his left as six of his Recon Marines used the tree line as cover and approached the gate. Once in position, they took aim with silenced MP-5's and M-4's. The night was silent as all waited for the moment…

"Did you see what Koyla said to that fool?"

"That one from the government?"

"Yes, he…"

Before the talkative Genii soldier could finish his statement, his blood splattered and covered his friend, courtesy of well-aimed 9mm rounds from the Marines. The blood covered friend quickly found his silent death caused by the 5.56mm round of an M-4 rifle. The comm. net was deadly in its brevity when it came to their last moment.

"_Two down."_

Lassiter took in the news and activated his mike. "Execute step two."

A team of twelve Russians moved in stacks to the bunkers, forming up outside each of the main doors. Acting like an urban SWAT team in an American city, they used battering rams to open each of the metal doors. Just as quickly, a paratrooper threw in a flash bang. Simultaneously, smoke grenades were tossed into the small slit ports that were the windows of each bunker. Just as quickly they fell back to their previous position at the tree line.

Smoke began billowing out of all the doors and windows as the teams heard cries and screams emanating from the concrete structures. Quickly, Genii soldiers began running out the doors into the open as they coughed and gagged trying to recover from the smoke and the shock to their senses. Major Lassiter waited for more soldiers to come into the kill zone and then gave the order.

"All units, open fire!"

The tree line roared to life as the assault force opened fire on the stunned victims of Earth's directed violence. The rapid clatter of Squad Automatic Weapons and Russian RPD's echoed like nearby thunder. The Genii, like others in the Pegasus Galaxy, had viewed the humans of Earth as nothing more than idealistic simpletons incapable of dealing with the harsh reality. They now discovered the error of that analysis as Genii soldiers were torn apart in a hail of gunfire. The soldiers of the United States and Russia were well versed in the application of wholesale death and were dealing it in spades on this night. Men were torn to pieces as they were hit from multiple angles. Lassiter saw one young soldier stagger wounded for a couple of feet before his head exploded from the impact of a Russian round and his body collapsed to the ground. The slaughter continued as more Genii were caught in the kill zone. A Genii sergeant charged towards a Marine position only to have his chest explode by the impact of a full burst from a machine gun. This wasn't even combat but a firing squad. The Genii learned that Earth soldiers didn't fight 'fair' but took any advantage they could take or steal. Soon, some retreated back into the bunkers willing to deal with the smoke than be torn apart.

The return fire was limited and sporadic as Genii soldiers fell before being able to bring aimed fire on the Earth force. A couple of more senior soldiers attempted to organize a defense but their effort was cut short by a Russian RPG-7 round that slammed into their cluster, sending arms, legs and torsos spinning wildly into the air like ballerinas gone bad.

As the last Genii fell, Lassiter activated his mike. "All units move in and prepare to breach the structures. Watch your fire."

The assault teams reformed and moved to their assigned structures with a highly practiced fluid grace. Each approached their assigned building and tossed in flash-bangs, the explosions stunning the dazed survivors. Each team entered their building and the shooting began in earnest as they moved throughout the bunkers eliminating any resistance. Lassiter and his team moved through their bunker and found it was an open floor plan with a couple of small rooms at the back, from what little they could see in the smoky haze.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Major, over here."

Lassiter made his way over to where he was needed to find one of his Marines holding a picture to the face of a wounded Genii. He'd been shot in the arm and was shaken but he'd live. What clothes he had on were torn from the violent action. Lassiter knew immediately and without a doubt, it was him. He was decidedly unimpressed.

"Who are you? Why have you done this!?" Commander Acastus Koyla was angry and going into shock.

"Major John Lassiter, United States Marine Corps." Lassiter regarded him with all the sympathy of a dog who'd urinated on his couch. "Did you think we'd forget, you son of a bitch?"

**Pentagon**

**Arlington, VA**

The sun was bright on this morning as Jack entered the office of the Secretary of Defense for his scheduled meeting. It shown through the windows and helped to create a warm atmosphere that was highly ironic considering the amount of destructive power overseen by its occupant. Also helping to do that was the office's current occupant and Jack's immediate boss, Doctor Gerald Kiel. Jack had grown to respect Kiel a lot. A nuclear scientist by trade, he'd branched out years ago to help run the Lawrence-Livermore Laboratory in California before Hayes had tapped him as the new SECDEF. Kiel always seemed to ask the right questions of people and treated them with respect. He could be a tough questioner but he made it a point never to embarrass anyone or so Jack had noticed. Respected by the services and Congress alike which was rare, he knew when to pick his fights and when to hold his cards. One fight he did have was with the current Secretary of State, for whom he held a deep distrust.

"Good morning Jack. How's the universe at large?"

"A little better now sir. I've got some good news for once that doesn't involve blowing up a sun or a universe." Kiel had always liked poking fun at O'Neill over Carter and McKay's latest adventures in science.

"Well, don't hold me in suspense. The Ori surrender en mass?"

"One could only hope. Birmingham checked in this morning and you'll be glad to know that one Acastus Koyla is now cooling his heels in Atlantis' infirmary."

A grin broke out over Kiel's face and he muttered a quick oath under his breath. "That's great news. Any casualties?"

"Only two wounded on our side, none seriously. The Genii took it on the chin. Birmingham says his guys killed over 60 of Koyla's men. They've got seven prisoners, all of them wounded to some extent and in holding at Atlantis."

"Now the fun starts. We'll need to come up with a plan to deal with these guys. We can't exactly ship them to Guantanamo or US District Court. I guarantee Elizabeth Weir will be throwing in her two cents."

Jack arched his eyebrows at that thought. "I'm told Woolsey's staff is coming up with some suggestions for the IOA. I have great confidence." The sarcasm was evident and certainly not hidden.

Kiel chuckled at Jack's IOA paranoia. "Well, that's their specialty so we'll let them figure it out for a while. We've got more important things to deal with this morning. I have some news for you; whether its good news is entirely up to you but I think it will be. Sit down."

Jack sat down in a comfortable seat and looked over at Kiel. He had a bad feeling about this, no matter what the Secretary said. He was by nature and experiences a skeptic and this smelled of set up.

"The President, the NSC and the Joint Chiefs have finally settled on a plan of action for our new role in the universe, especially since we're so close to Disclosure. Congress is on board as well and it took a lot of negotiation with the leadership and the committees, especially the Speaker, who's been rather bellicose of late. Anyway, the President has decided to go forth with the recommendation to form a new combatant command, United States Space Command, or SPACECOM. It'll be on par with the other combatant commands and will report to me and the President. It'll take place with Disclosure and allow us to streamline how we operate not only the SGC but our new fleet and whatever ground operations off-world that we conduct.

"This serves a few purposes. First, it'll get the Joint Chiefs out of operational matters and back to running the services. By law, they're supposed to be running their services and out of operational command. The SGC muddied that and we need to clean it up. Secondly, it'll give us the ability to allocate resources and troops easier after Disclosure. As a combatant command, it'll be the usual four-star billet with all of the components under him, including the Navy with the fleet and the SGC. This will also allow us to work more closely with the other IOA nations on combined ops. We're getting pressure from the Russians and Chinese to be included more in our planning and ops and eventually we'll have to bend to those wishes, however grudgingly."

Even though Jack could occasionally be among the more oblivious when he wanted to be, he could see the speeding train coming his way.

"The President, with my hearty approval, has decided to recommend you to the Senate to be the Commander of United States Space Command. Congratulations."

"Jack blinked a couple of times before the words sunk in for effect. _Me? A four-star general?_

"Mister Secretary, while I'm honored, I have to ask. Has the President really thought this through? When Disclosure happens, I'm going to be target one since I led the first mission."

"The President is aware of that but feels that no matter what, your experience out there plus your pragmatism are huge assets. Plus, don't underestimate how much you've won over Congress. They're really starting to like you. A lot I might add. Plus, the folks at the SGC worship you and your experiences and that will make things a lot easier."

"In that case, how can I say no?"

Before the Secretary could respond there was a knock at the door and his naval aide stepped in. "I'm sorry sir, but there's an urgent call for General O'Neill on the secure line."

Jack rose from his chair and walked over to a credenza, a secure telephone sitting on it. "This is General O'Neill." Jack listened for a few moments and then spoke. "Have the Navy prep all their intel on this and we'll convene via video conference in one hour. Thank you." Hanging up the phone, he turned to the Secretary obviously looking concerned.

"What is it Jack?"

"The Navy intercepted a Lucian Alliance vessel trying to hijack a Jaffa cargo ship. The _Intrepid_ disabled it and our Marines boarded the vessel and seized it. No casualties on our side. The ship's computer records were processed and we answered a couple of issues.

"Like what?"

"We now know where our Iraqi Jaffa came from. Based on the intelligence they gathered, the Navy believes the Alliance is planning to go to war against Earth."


	15. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**P89-573**

The man ran at a quick, panicked and adrenaline-fueled pace, his strides off-balance and jerky. Cool detachment had given way to abject horror. He didn't want to die, not today, not any day soon. Whoever his stalkers were, they did not fear the Ori's wrath like they should or as he did. They had struck without so much as an honorable challenge or a declaration. They had appeared in his unit's encampment and started firing their weapons in the night, hunting men down in the beds. Oh, how they shot! It was if the gods had given them the gift of sight in the night. His panicked flight continued.

_Hallowed are the Ori! Hallowed are the Ori! Please save me! Hallowed are the Ori!_

He bounced off trees in his flight, bending saplings along the way as he did anything to escape death. The fear surged through him threatening to overtake him. His only plan was to run and keep running; the fate of his fellow soldiers was now out of his hands and in those of the Ori. He streaked through the darkness, the sound of his heart beating in his ears. As he made to a clearing he tripped momentarily then gained his footing. He ran for the opposite tree line.

_Almost there! Hallowed are the Ori!_

Just as he came near the tree line he felt his right leg buckle and explode in searing pain, blood shooting everywhere as he crumpled to the ground.

_NO! Hallowed are the Ori! Oh, the pain!!_

He rolled over onto his back, the starry night above him and all the pain he could stand in his leg below him. He knew he was dead at that point; it was over. Whoever his stalkers were would now stand over him like conquering hunters and finish their prey. This is not how he wanted to die, alone on a strange world separated from his family. The Ori had promised immortality and this certainly wasn't it. He saw the smoke and flames rising into the night's sky from what had been the encampment set up by him and his fellow soldiers. There had been screaming and the tell-tale sound of weapons fire, now there was only silence.

He kept his eyes open for what he knew was his impending demise. He heard voices as his executioners came near. It was them, it had to be; the word had been spread of a group of soldiers, supposedly from the Tau'ri, who could kill anyone before the victim knew it. They had been slaughtering small formations of Ori soldiers with impunity and always left before being caught; at least those were the rumors. Fear had crept into many, only to be scoffed at by the Priors, who he believed, knew all. His weapon was too far away for him to reach and he knew it would do no good now.

"Don't move motherfucker!"

_A 'motherfucker'?_

He looked over and saw the men approach with deadly certitude. They were dressed in their strangely patterned uniforms; faces painted like ghouls and were pointing their powerful projectile weapons at his prostrate form. Before he knew it, they'd shoved him on his chest and tied his arms behind him.

"Get a medic up here; he's wounded in the leg."

"Roger that, Sergeant Major."

As he was dragged to his feet he looked over at one of the dark forms. "Who are you people?"

Without waiting, the man approached and looked into his eyes.

"Our friends call us Rangers. You can call us Splinter Cell."

As he was led away he heard them all laugh at the remark. It was the scariest sound he'd ever heard.

**The White House**

**Washington, DC**

"So how bad is it?"

The targets of the President's question didn't look at all comfortable trying to answer the query. Neither wanted or needed this problem and knew all too well that their boss needed it even less. Sean Flaherty looked over at the President's science advisor, Doctor Nicholas Van Otten, and simply raised his eyebrows in a _you better take this_ gesture that Van Otten clearly found annoying. Van Otten, a brilliant biologist and member of the faculty at Harvard University, clearly appeared ill at ease with the development and with the political operative sitting to his left. Since coming on board two years earlier, he'd been urgently advocating for Disclosure, but like everyone else, was wracked with worry over the public fallout. Van Otten was the classic Ivy League academic, so much so that Flaherty had once joked that he expected him to wear a tweed jacket any day now, although today it was a grey Brooks Brothers suit with a striped tie. But if Van Otten was anything, it was patriotic and fair minded; so much so that he had willingly volunteered to work for an administration he admitted he hadn't voted for.

"_Scientific American_ has some of their senior writers investigating why so many prominent scientists, especially in the fields of physics, biology, medicine and chemistry, have been getting work from the government lately. The government has always been the largest sponsor of scientific research but with the SGC it's only gotten larger and drawn in more and more talent. A lot of the research is labor intensive and has required a lot of basic research. There are only so many ways we can hide or obfuscate these grants. They've always tracked trends in research dollars and they're starting to put two and two together. They haven't directly approached my office for comment but I have gotten a few off-the-record inquiries. They've also been sniffing around in the academic and business communities, mainly the usual places."

"Oh really? Where?"

"They have been to the Applied Physics Lab at Hopkins, Caltech, Harvard, the Fermi Lab at Chicago and some other places. Apparently, they also spent some time up in Redmond talking to Microsoft and we believe they're going to hit up Sun MicroSystems any day. That worries me the most; that they've somehow connected our grants with the private contract work. Word is that they also started putting some people on DARPA's tail." DARPA, or the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, handled advanced theoretical systems for the US military. DARPA was heavily engaged in researching SGC-obtained technology and had worked with the Asgard in the past. "I don't believe they've latched on to the SGC yet, only that they've seen a large upswing in research and development. We knew it couldn't be held incognito forever; too many discoveries and projects are reaching the tipping point at the same time and to many it looks far too convenient."

"Great. Just great. How hard are they biting on to this?"

Van Otten looked over at Flaherty with the _it's now your turn_ look. Handling the press was the White House Chief of Staff's job and he was known for being exceedingly good at it.

"Judging by what we've seen so far, they're staying on this story and it's not going to go away. We don't know what they've got in terms of physical evidence, such as paperwork or electronic records, but it can't be too bad so far. First, none of our open grants mention the SGC or the IOA in any shape or form obviously. Secondly, if they had those goods, we'd know and we'd have been confronted about it. I do agree with Doctor Van Otten however; having their reporters connect the research grants with the things the DOD has farmed out to contractors really worries me. That nearly burned us with Alec Colson and I'm not big on reliving that."

"Alec Colson was a true believer and those are hard to stop, especially when they have a sixty billion dollar fortune and the influence that comes with it. I admire that guy, and from what General O'Neill tells me, so do the allies he works with now." Hayes looked towards the ceiling and sighed audibly before looking back at his two advisors. "Alright, what do you suggest we do, if anything?"

Flaherty cut right in before Van Otten could even speak. "Nothing. Nothing at all. We'd just be attracting attention otherwise. If we feel they're getting close to the SGC, we meet with them and their publishers and appeal for them to hold off. After all, _Scientific American_ is going to become as popular as _Sports Illustrated_ once we go public."

Van Otten chuckled at that thought. "I know some people on staff there; they are the ones keeping me in the loop but you must realize gentlemen, as we go along it's only going to get harder. Every time one of your teams brings some artifact or technology back, someone has to study it. We only have so many scientists on the payroll; we have to farm out a lot of basic research and we have three choices at that point: try to conceal its origins, get the researcher into the loop and cleared into the program or put it on the shelf for later study. These are intelligent people we're talking about; they can connect the dots and start to see what's going on. It's an absolute miracle that _National Geographic_ or someone else hasn't caught on since the SGC has grabbed a lot of researchers for the historical and antiquities side of the house."

Flaherty nodded in agreement. "He's right sir. The other IOA nations are going start having the same problems as us. The Brits have their national security laws to stop publication but a lot of the others don't. There are a lot of foreign scientists coming into the program from those nations; it's a miracle some of the Russians haven't talked yet."

"Alright, keep an eye on it for now. If we think they're getting too close, I'll meet with them and try to work something out." Hayes looked over at Dr. Van Otten. "What's the latest on the scientific front?"

"Simply put Mister President, our grandchildren are going to grow up in a much different world, or universe I guess you could say. We're talking about some profound changes in everyday life once some of this technology makes the leap to everyday use. We'll have an updated scientific progress report coming to your office within the month once the last of the data is collated. Already we look to have a highly effective compound for blunting Alzheimer's disease by eliminating the plaque build-up that causes it. A group of specialists from the Mayo Clinic and UCLA are handling that. The pharmaceutical companies and the research universities are going to have a field day with a lot of these things because there are so many available areas and properties to look at. Add to that all the technology, from hyper drives to energy production and you can see that a lot of people in my field and others are going to be busy.

"But its key sir that we push science education in the schools if you want any chance to maximize what can be gained and accomplished. I know I sound like a broken record on this but I know it to be true.

"McKay's people out at Atlantis are practically swamped and are having trouble knowing exactly where to start. There's so much to look at and just figuring out the basic purpose of some tech systems requires hundreds of man hours. The staff at the SGC is having a similar problem on their end. The DOD is showing up with some new discovery all the time and keeping things in order is becoming a problem. I've spoken at length with Generals O'Neill and Landry about slowing down things and getting the house in order, so to speak. We need to get a clear grasp of whet we've encountered so far and where the research is going to take us. They agree sir. The problem has been that the DOD acted like ten year olds in a toy store and was grabbing everything in site and that's not the scientific way to conduct research. Secretary Kiel has been a big help in this area and we're finally getting a handle on it."

"That's fine. I know Sean here is more concerned, as are a lot of others over what type of hit the economy is going to take."

Flaherty adjusted in his seat and let out a shudder. "It's going to be massive. We're talking about a wholesale shakeup in how the business community operates. First, we're going to have to come to an understanding as to how the interstellar 'economy' as it is works. A lot of companies will want to jump out there but the civilian spacecraft market will have to take the lead first, otherwise no one's going anywhere. It's not as if they can use the gate. Logistically, that's impossible. Oh, and by the way, there's no law, ours or others, to cover this yet."

Van Otten agreed. "Well, the aerospace companies are going to be pretty busy for a while, once the civilianized tech is released for further research. It's not going to happen overnight but we'll see a lot of movement rather quickly. I know the Europeans are moving very quickly on this."

Hayes nodded. "I want to see the benefits spread out once we go public. We're going to have a rugby scrum over patents by competing companies and I'm worried how that'll hurt the economy, let alone the advanced tech that can render major industries obsolete. Secretary Moses over at Commerce has been briefed in for a while and his guys will be our point men on that. The scientists are going to be key to exploiting it and I'll need you out there front and center as a voice of reason Doctor. You and our new poster boy, Doctor Daniel Jackson, that is."

Flaherty rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That guy is my personal nightmare. Congress is going to try and tear him apart in the inevitable hearings. Ascension? Whoa boy, it's not going to be fun."

Van Otten gave it a moment's careful thought. "What will be tough is that Doctor Jackson was essentially a pariah in his field when the Air Force and Catherine Langford scooped him up. There are a lot in the academic community who don't forget such things easily. Don't get me wrong; he should get the Nobel Prize and I bet he will. It's just that egos are big things in my arena and they get bruised."

"You think academic's egos get bruised? Wait till the House gets him before a committee looking for blood."

"Well, Doctor Jackson will have the grateful thanks of this nation as long as I'm the President. What he and the others there have done, my God. We'll see as…" The President was interrupted as one of his aides stuck his head in the door.

"What is it Mike?"

"Pardon me sir, but Doctor Regan is asking for you and Mister Flaherty in the Situation Room. She says that it's urgent."

"Alright, tell her we'll be down momentarily."

"Yes sir."

Hayes looked over at the two men seated before him and rose from his chair. "Doctor, thank you and please keep me informed on this."

"Of course sir."

"Okay Sean, let's go see what the latest catastrophe is. I'd almost hope it was just Iraq."

As Hayes and Flaherty walked through the presidential mansion he gazed at the official portraits of his predecessors. How would Jack Kennedy or Theodore Roosevelt have dealt with the gate and its attending issues? Roosevelt's major issues had been a canal and keeping the Kaiser out of South America, which now sounded positively quaint to Hayes' line of thinking at this point. How about Eisenhower or Grant? It was massive and some days beyond his comprehension how big the universe was becoming on a daily basis and how much adjustment it took to get used to it. But at its core, humanity shared all the same traits: greed, cowardice, humor, bravery, malice and vice. How the people of Earth, and his concern, the United States, handled the coming change would be titanic. He didn't have all the answers and he knew they'd make mistakes but he hoped that in the end, he got it right.

Soon they found themselves passing the Marine sentry and some of the military aides as they entered the secure conference room, full of various staffers and representatives of federal agencies. Before he made it to his seat at the head of the table he saw a familiar face that brightened his day.

"George! No one told me you were back."

Lt. Gen. George Hammond, USAF (Ret.), smiled and waved his hands in defense. "I just got into Andrews within the hour Mister President and I thought I should get over here as soon as possible."

Hayes walked over and shook his hand heartily. "Well, I'm glad you're back. I hope you brought some good news because we're short on it here right now. The neighborhood took a turn for the worse."

Hammond stared directly at the President and dropped his warm smile into a professionally neutral look. "It's done, and there's more."

"Okay, we'll talk after the briefing." Hayes looked over at the assembled national security staff as he took his seat. "Alright, let's get this going. What's the breaking news Sylvia?"

"Mister President, approximately twelve hours ago, the USS _Intrepid_ received a distress call while on its workup cruise near the Jaffa border. When they arrived at the source location, they discovered three Lucian Alliance Al'kesh attacking a Jaffa cargo ship, ostensibly in an act of piracy. The captain of the _Intrepid_ ordered them to cease their attack but they refused and opened fire on our ship. In response, the _Intrepid_ attacked and destroyed two of the Al'kesh and damaged the third, which was then boarded by Marines. Three Lucian crew members were captured and two were killed. Per our agreements with the Jaffa, the Lucian crew will be turned over to the government on Dakara."

"Any casualties on our side?"

"No sir. But while this incident is a problem, that's not the most pressing issue. General?"

All eyes turned to Jack as he brought up a slide on the video screen. "Sir, after taking control of the Al'kesh, the Navy sent some of their intelligence and computer specialists aboard to analyze the ship's information systems for any useful intel. What is here on the screen and in your briefing packet is our translation of some of the take. It presents a disturbing picture and also explains a few things.

"Apparently, these Al'kesh had been utilized to carry out covert operations at the behest of the Lucian leadership, some of whom we've managed to compile a dossier on that you also have. Among their orders were instructions to place a series of infiltrators on a group of planets for the purpose of sewing anarchy, thereby increasing their ability to profit from the typical power vacuum in this galaxy. Among the locations selected for this operation was Earth."

Hayes' glance shot up from his briefing papers. "Excuse me?"

"Based on this evidence, we now believe that the Jaffa found by the 101st in Iraq was a hired mercenary in the employ of the Lucian Alliance. He was inserted by the Alliance."

"How the hell did they manage that?! And how do they know about current events on Earth, especially Iraq?"

"Sir, according to the information we've accumulated so far, they've had a stealth probe in the vicinity of Earth monitoring commercial broadcasts and whatever else they could pick up. We don't believe, based on the information we recovered, that they've gained access to any secure nodes; only that they've monitored our commercial broadcasts. It's my belief they took this action to cause two things. One, distract us with problems at home, and two, to attempt to cause a rupture in our relations with the Free Jaffa nation. When you consider all of it, that's pretty sophisticated for what's essentially a bunch of thieves, pirates and con men. As to how they got our mercenary into Iraq, the Navy and Air Force are looking into that."

"Con men or not, they've stepped over a line on this one. They've officially moved up from nuisance to being a direct threat to this nation and its allies. You said they did this to some other planets as well?"

"Yes sir. The electronic records show that other mercenaries were inserted on Dakara, Langara, Hebridan and some unorganized settlements throughout the galaxy. With your permission, I'd like to have our missions on these worlds inform the relevant governments and assist with intelligence."

"Do it. Offer our cooperation and let's start thinking about an intelligence sharing plan. Sylvia, convene the NSC staff and let's get State on board with that. That should get Secretary Tallmadge all worked up."

"Yes sir." Regan clearly wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"Okay, we may have to move up our time table quickly in some areas." Hayes shook his head. "Jesus, this is rich. That's it, the gloves come off. Who the hell do these guys think they are? They only got their start because we knocked off their oppressors, or did they forget that fact?"

"How many in total do we believe are here on Earth?"

"The documentation speaks to two more in Iraq, five in Afghanistan, three in Chechnya and four in Columbia."

"Good God! What a fucking mess! The Russians are not going to be happy about rogue Jaffa running around Chechnya. Do we have a way of tracking them down before they cause World War Three?"

"If they're all Jaffa, Colonel Carter believes we can modify the sensors on one of the battle cruisers to scan for them but it will take a while to make the adjustments. In the meantime sir I believe we need to warn all commands."

"Get her on it ASAP and draw whatever expertise you need from the other agencies. CIA, NSA, FBI, whatever. Finding these little shits is now our mission in life. We were planning the disclosure brief for the rest of the senior commanders. It may be time to move that up."

"Yes sir, I'll be speaking with General Maynard and the Chiefs. We've already been giving such a thing a lot of thought. We do have one concept for an operation that we want to present sir."

"Alright Jack, what's your idea?"

"As you know, we've been concerned about our lack of signals intelligence, specifically our ability to collect it. So, we've taken one of the captured Goa'uld Tel'tac transport craft and done extensive modifications to it."

How the United States came into possession of Goa'uld craft was one of the most tightly held secrets in the history of the program, not to mention an achievement of epic proportions in military history, even by the rather large standards of the program. A year and a half earlier, the SGC had received intelligence regarding a facility that had served as a staging area for the armies of Anubis prior to his defeat at the hands of SG-1. In addition to being a staging area, the facility on an otherwise desolate planet had served as an armory and weapons testing facility for some of Anubis' better scientists and engineers, who'd been left to rot with his demise. Intelligence pointed to these out of work Jaffa offering their services to the highest bidder, especially the Lucian Alliance. That tidbit had set off bells and whistles at the SGC, which responded with dramatic flare and a lightning speed not usually seen in government circles.

In a vicious and quick assault spearheaded by the _Odyssey_ and the _Daedelus_, a combined force culled from Delta, SEAL Team 6 and the SAS had assaulted the lightly defended facility, capturing it intact and in pristine condition along with all its contents and staff. _All its contents_ didn't do justice to the treasure trove of weapons and technology found following the raid, which left the SOF community and the DOD thunderstruck. The United States and the other IOA nations became the proud owners of over 50 Death Gliders, 18 Tel'tacs, 3 Al'kesh and more staff weapons, cannons, zats and other equipment than could be immediately catalogued. This included everything from medical devices to food processing equipment. Along with that came over 40 captured weapons and tech designers looking for work. Carefully and over a period of three weeks, every single craft, weapon, person or piece of equipment, nailed down or not, was evacuated either to Earth or an off-world site until the place was barren.

It was the military intelligence and scientific coup of a lifetime, on par with the taking of German weapons technology and know-how at the end of World War Two and as the wags at the SGC never failed to point out; it was NOT brought about by SG-1. The IOA nations were beyond thrilled, especially in light of the fact that it was done without the knowledge of the Jaffa, who might not have been as thrilled, especially considering the fact that the assault force killed over 200 Jaffa, at the loss of four Earth-based soldiers. That windfall was paying dividends on multiple fronts and this was an example. It was with this in mind that Hayes watched Jack's craftiness come into play.

"What type of modifications?"

"We've completely rebuilt the flight systems and added an entire suite of electronic eavesdropping equipment based on both Earth indigenous systems and reworked Goa'uld systems. This was a joint project between the Air Force, JSOC and the NSA with the lion's share of the work being done out at Groom Lake. Basically, we've created one of the most advanced electronic warfare craft in the known universe this side of our Asgard friends, who were not brought in on this one."

"The craft, designated an RC-136, will be able to monitor the entire spectrum of electronic and communications emissions in the audio and visual ranges to include Goa'uld, Jaffa and just about everybody else we've ever run across."

"Who's going to man this thing?"

"The crew will be Air Force with electronics and communications experts coming from our Grey Fox friends."

Grey Fox was a matter of the utmost secrecy within the US military. Founded in 1981 and known by many names during its time to include the Army of Virginia, the Intelligence Support Activity and the US Army Office of Military Support, Grey Fox had a unique mission. It specialized in gathering human and signals intelligence for the DOD in demanding and hazardous environments. Organized like their Delta brethren and made up of veterans of the SF groups and other US SOF, they were among the first US operators into many hostile areas but hadn't been used by the SGC. Until now that is.

"Alright, let's hear the pros and cons." This was a traditional habit of Hayes' dating back to his start as a lawyer. He loved to hear people debate the costs and benefits of anything that had risks and then make up his mind, giving him a clear conscience even when it went bad. He hated decisions made without all the information, even though he knew it had to happen all the time.

Jack smiled weakly, hoping to lighten Hayes' mood. "Pro number one, we piss them off."

Hayes laughed. "If it were only that simple."

"Simply put sir, we have got to get a clearer picture of their intentions and goals. This find from the Al'kesh is a goldmine but we need more. That is the overriding pro in my opinion, added to the fact that we need to expand our sigint take in general. It's been one area we've been slow to latch onto and we've relied too much on human intelligence, whether it was the Tok'ra or someone like Vala Mal Doran.

"What's the risk? It's a big one; I won't lie. We'd be putting these men into Indian country without any backup. If their concealment gets blown, they won't have much of a chance. They know that and are still willing to do it. I've been in their situation and I hate the thought of it but I hate the thought of the Alliance getting something even worse onto this planet. Also, if by some small chance the RC-136 was captured intact, they'd have access to some of Earth's most advanced communications and intelligence equipment. The crews have protocols in place for that, destroying the equipment, just as we do on the RC-135's and the Navy's P-3's. But it's still a risk."

"Sylvia?"

"I agree with the general on this one. We have an absolute need to know what further moves they're planning and we can't continue to rely solely on SG teams to get us that intel. Those troops have done a remarkable job but we need to ramp up the full spectrum of our efforts and this is one way to do it, and possibly increase our intel take dramatically. It's a huge risk but one we need to take."

"Do these crews know what's being asked of them?"

"Yes sir, they know it could be a one way trip. They're still willing to give it a shot."

The President looked over at Hammond, who until now had stayed silent at the end of the table. "George, what do you think?"

"Mister President, I sent my fair share of young men on near-suicide missions when I ran the SGC so I know what we're asking of them. I agree with General O'Neill and Doctor Regan on this one. We need a better look at the Alliance and this is a great way to do it. We just have to put our faith in their abilities and hope for some luck. We already got some by seizing that Al'kesh."

Hayes looked around the table at the eyes staring back at him, waiting for a decision. They were deadly serious and incredibly smart; they tried their hardest to give him the best information possible and leave the decisions in his hands. Hayes sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright, we go with it. I want to speak with them before hand though. Can you arrange that Jack?"

"Yes sir."

Hayes took a moment and looked around the room at his civilian and military advisors. "Okay, I want twice daily updates on our search for these people and I want them found yesterday. I hate to sound trite, but I'll take dead, alive or comatose at this point. Are we clear?"

He was greeted by a room of 'yes sirs'.

**Peterson AFB, CO**

Major General Eric Darden looked down to his feet, arms crossed over his ACU blouse as he absentmindedly kicked at some loose mulch near the bushes of Petersen's passenger terminal. All he knew was that he had enough to do and standing here wasn't on his agenda and his body language spoke to it. The Air Force personnel were giving him a wide berth. It seemed like he always had something to do, but truth be told, he liked it that way. After all, he rationalized; he did have his dream job, even if standing there was keeping him from it. Darden's dream job carried a hefty weight of responsibility. As commander of the US Army's 4th Infantry Division, he had at his command a sizable chunk of combat power, trained and equipped to lay waste to a lot of enemies and spread over two different posts. Infantry, armor, cavalry, artillery and aviation assets were all at his command formed a formidable team, strengthened by multiple combat deployments to Iraq. He loved it and had strived towards it for the last twenty five years since hitting West Point for Plebe Summer.

Darden's work was far from over. He finally had all his units out of Iraq and reconstituting, no small miracle at this point. At the same time he was dealing with the lingering effects of the base realignment plan that had suddenly shifted most of the division's Brigade Combat Teams (BCT's) to Fort Carson from Fort Hood, Texas. His Second, Third and Fourth Brigades would make Fort Carson home while his Aviation and First Brigades would stay at Hood. All of this had siphoned his time in recent months while trying to keep his units combat ready. Then suddenly the phone call came.

His presence at Petersen on this particular morning carried a fair amount of cloak and dagger theatrics he could due without. The previous day had brought a sudden phone call from his boss, the aggressive and hard charging Lieutenant General Paul Von Eyck, the commander of Third Corps at Fort Hood; parent to both 4th ID and the 1st Cavalry Division. Von Eyck, whom Darden had known for twenty years and considered a friend, had been direct and swift. _Assemble your senior staff and the brigade commanders and be ready for a meeting at 1500 hours the next day at Carson. Highest secrecy…No one talks! I'll be arriving by aircraft at 1400 hours at Peterson. Pick me up yourself and come alone._ Von Eyck's brevity and urgency had caught Darden short and left him to only guess at the latest crisis. _Back to Iraq? Georgia? An unscheduled exercise?_ Every idea that popped into Darden's head seemed unlikely but refused to go away. He prayed silently that it wasn't another extended deployment. His troops were just now recovering from the last one that saw his division suffer 24 dead and over 200 wounded. In addition, families had been strained to the breaking point, some dealing with their fourth or fifth combat rotation.

His attention was finally caught by the aircraft coming in on final approach, not the typical small Army prop job that Von Eyck normally flew on but an Air Force bird, one of their Lear Jet-like transports, the type that mainly flew from the 89th Airlift Wing at Andrews Air Force Base outside DC. _What the hell is going on?_ Darden watched as the bird landed and taxied towards the terminal where he waited. It finally stopped and the engines shut down and their incessant whine ceased. The side door popped open and an Air Force crewman lowered it and extended the ladder. Seconds later he saw Von Eyck exit followed by what looked to be an unfamiliar Air Force two star and a blonde female Air Force Lieutenant Colonel being trailed by another Army officer…

_Holy fucking shit!_

Darden's jaw nearly dropped as the athletic form of General Mike Balderson, the Army Chief of Staff, bounded from the aircraft followed by his aides. Darden knew at that point it had to be bad. He regained his composure quick enough to fire off a perfect salute to the Army's senior officer.

"Good afternoon sir. This is an unexpected pleasure." _If you want to call it that. I'm shitting my pants!_

Balderson took in Darden's panicked look and tried to make light of his dramatic arrival. "What can I say? I love the mountain air. Relax Eric, I know I caught you short here but I promise it's important. Are your people assembled?"

"Yes sir. They're assembled at the Ranger facility." _Another mysterious little operation that needs explaining… _

"Good, let's hit the road. We need to talk."

While this was taking place the division's senior staff and its brigade commanders bided their time waiting in the impressive facilities of the 7th Rangers, whose purpose at Carson was never fully explained to them and whose commander was even now being similarly opaque.

"This is a heck of a facility colonel. They threw some serious cash at the Regiment for you guys to have this." Colonel Thomas Harney, the strapping 6'5" African-American commander of the Fourth's Second Brigade Combat Team looked around the briefing hall with unmatched envy. _The SOF guys get it all these days…_

Terry McNulty laughed, "Believe me sir, I'm not complaining one bit."

"You don't happen to know what this little meeting all about, would you?"

McNulty chose his words _extremely_ carefully and rocked slightly on his heals. "Sir, I've been instructed not to say anything about it at the moment. I can tell you that it's of vital importance and this isn't some jerk of the chain thing, if you know what I mean. I wish I could be more forthcoming but I can't."

Harney and some of his 4th ID colleagues arched their eyebrows at McNulty's cryptic answer but decided not to pursue it further. Like most professional soldiers, they loathed uncertainty but accepted it as part of the job, though they did everything humanly possible to eliminate it from the equation. Many couldn't decide whether McNulty was serious or really jerking their chain. It was obvious from the start to the 4th ID staff that there was more to Lt. Col. McNulty and his men than they were previously told which was very little.

The various conversations returned to more mundane topics such as Iraq, and the large scale redeployment that President Hayes had announced the day before. The plan was to have all large combat formations out by 2011. The men in the room, each of which had been there at least twice, had taken in that news with a blend of outright skepticism and some quiet hope that it would happen. It was obvious Hayes wanted the brigades out sooner rather than later. If they knew the real reason they would have been shocked.

"Room, ten hut!"

The assembled group sprang to attention as Darden entered the room, only to have their eyes bulge out dramatically when they saw who was accompanying him. It was funny and Balderson noticed it immediately. One thought crossed everyone's mind nearly simultaneously:

_Holy Shit! What the hell did we screw up?!_

"As you were gentlemen. Please, take your seats and for Christ's sake, take a breath. You all look like you got poked with a cattle prod." A ripple of nervous laughter filled the hall as they found their seats. Balderson was known for an infectious and sharp sense of humor that belied an even sharper intellect.

"Let me first apologize to you, General Darden, and to all of you for the surprise appearance and the lack of warning. I know that if I were in your shoes and the Chief of Staff showed up unannounced, I'd be sweating bullets as well. You and the 4th are not in trouble, although you may think differently after we're done here. I want you to know up front that this wasn't done lightly but the nature of the information you'll be briefed on required absolute secrecy." Balderson cleared his throat and looked out over the group before continuing.

"I'm not given to hyperbole, but what you are about to learn is quite possibly the most closely held secret in human history. No, actually there is no 'possibly' about it. What we'll be discussing here is not to be even thought about outside this forum and should it leak out, I will guarantee a life of misery to the culprit. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me introduce the others here with me. Major General Jack O'Neill is technically assigned to the Office of the Secretary of Defense, but as he'll tell you, he doesn't spend a lot of time there. He comes out of the AFSOC community and is one of the finest operators I've met. I'll let him explain what he does in a moment. With him is Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, who's assigned to General O'Neill's command. She is a trained scientist and has also worked extensively in the SOF community. Finally, you all know Colonel McNulty. What you don't know is what his unit's mission is. I know for a fact there's been a lot of speculation and a lot of it is wrong. Today we explain why the 7th Rangers came into being and what they've been up to."

Balderson looked over at O'Neill with a quizzical look. "Do you want the honor on this one Jack or shall I?"

"By all means sir. I think they should hear it from you."

This exchange only served to heighten the tension and anxiousness on the faces of the 4th ID staff. Each, including General Darden, was practically on the edge of their seats and these were highly experienced infantry officers not unfamiliar with pressure. The day was just too weird and unexpected for anything else. Finally, Balderson looked out to the small group of officers and got to the point.

"I can only ask that you suspend disbelief and hold questions while I tell you about a few things. You will not want to believe me and might otherwise think I'm joking. This isn't a joke and it's certainly the truth, no matter how crazy it sounds.

"Around fifteen years ago, our Air Force brethren began experimenting with a piece of technology that had come into the government's hands prior to World War Two. It had been discovered by an archeologist in Egypt in the 1920's but had so far eluded much explanation. It took a lot of effort but the Air Force and some civilian scientists managed to determine its purpose and origin. What they discovered was that this device, now called the Stargate, which you'll be shown soon enough, was created by an intelligence not of our world and that this device allowed almost instantaneous travel to other habitable planets."

Balderson, O'Neill and Carter looked around the room, waiting for a shout, cry or whistle to erupt. None came, either due to shock or just good discipline. But the faces were something else. Jack wished he had a camera every time he was present for one of these disclosure briefings. The looks, which each individual was probably unaware of, were priceless.

"Yes, you heard me right. It was an alien artifact that could take you to other worlds. The Air Force soon discovered that there existed an entire network of thousands of these gates across known and unknown space. For the last ten years, we've been sending soldiers, scientists, diplomats and others to other worlds for peaceful exploration. That description makes it sound rather simple, which I assure you it isn't. There's so much more and that's what we're going to explain to you. It'll be an assault on everything you've taken for granted. Yes, there's alien life. We've met them. There are so much life out there it would amaze you.

"You're certainly asking: Why are you telling us now? I'll tell you why. While we've discovered beautiful wonders and friendly races, we've also discovered some true evil. For the last decade SOF forces have engaged in a clandestine war against hostile aliens." At this the faces of the staff changed to intense contemplation.

"Luckily we've given it a lot more than we've been hurt but we have suffered casualties. For the first few years it was exclusively Airman and Marines out there but that's now changing. We've got Navy SEALS, Brit SAS, Green Berets, Russians and yes, Rangers into the fight." With that, all eyes turned to McNulty, who just smiled slightly.

"There's a reason why we put three full brigades here at Carson. When we go public here in a few months, 4th ID will be our spearhead for any future conflict. You're going to be our junkyard dog with a nasty streak. As General O'Neill will explain in depth, there's nothing like the US Army out there. You'll bring a new dimension to the fight. You'll be the first conventional forces dedicated to this mission. There are aliens who want us dead with a capital D. The plague two years ago? Alien. The _Nimitz_? You got it. Aliens. We have dodged the bullet more times than I or anyone else wishes to think about. The enemies we've encountered have no idea what we're truly capable of. One-on-one they're tough. But they don't know combined arms to save their life and all their tactics are small unit scrums. When they meet a Stryker Brigade and some MLRS, they're not going to look down on us.

"Why Carson? Because the Stargate is right under your feet at Cheyenne Mountain under a few million tons of rock."

At that revelation, the shock set in even deeper. Balderson thought he even saw fear in a couple sets of eyes when in reality it was more likely simple apprehension. He expected an avalanche of questions, concerns and fears. General Darden was the first to speak.

"Sir, I believe I can speak for all of us when I ask: Who needs fighting and when do we start?"

As Jack watched General Balderson speak with the assembled group, he thought back to the meeting that followed the briefing to the President and what it could mean to all of them. He realized that these Army officers would very well be coming into a different universe than the one he'd 'discovered' on Abydos all those years before. As if the universe could be categorized, Carter's scientific rationality and precision be damned. Jack had never believed that George Hammond would be the agent of that change but a simple conversation in the Oval Office changed all that…

_They followed President Hayes into the Oval Office, not failing to notice how angry he was about the Lucian Alliance and its machinations. Jack braced himself for the explosion and he was quickly rewarded when the volcano erupted, though at a muted level._

"_What are these assholes thinking Jack! Do they think we aren't going to respond to this sort of provocation or sit on our asses like chumps?!" Briefing papers were slammed down on the desk in a true fit of rage._

_One valuable lesson he'd picked up from Hammond was managing the Commander in Chief's occasional eruptions. That lesson now came in handy._

"_Sir, I think this presents more of an opportunity than we might normally think."_

_Hayes deflated momentarily and let fly mild sarcasm. "Oh, this I've got to hear."_

_Jack looked over at Hammond, who smiled and nodded, obviously thinking the same thing. Years of working together had done that. "The Alliance just handed us what we've been asking for a while now. We've begged and racked our brains for a way to bring the regional powers to the table to find a way to deal with the Ori threat. Just about everyone has had their reasons to be wary about it, some thinking Earth wants to extend influence; others are worried the Jaffa are going to start feeling their oats and upsetting the neighborhood. Now we've got it courtesy of the Lucian Alliance. Every one of these planets has interstellar commerce that is essential to their economies in ways that we're immune to since we haven't had disclosure and we don't have the shipping."_

"_So we use the Alliance threat to bring everyone to the table and then bring up the Ori?"_

_Hammond piped up from his seat. "That's exactly what he's suggesting sir. We've seen very little actual multi-party negotiation during the SGC's time. We now have the perfect opportunity and they'll want to meet. The piracy alone is enough and now this stunt of putting mercenaries into play will only ratchet the pressure up a notch. I can almost guarantee that many will want to talk at the very least. It's in their best interests; all we have to do is make some of them see it that way."_

_Hayes looked down at his lap, as if lost in thought with his hand at his chin. "Alright, we'll need Tallmadge to quarterback this one is association with the SGC." Hayes saw the physical groan from O'Neill. "I know the Secretary can be an officious one but damn, if he isn't the best at getting the parties to talk and this is State's job, with a little help from DOD. Alright George, you said the trip went well, let's hear it."_

_A smile broke out on Hammond's face that caught even O'Neill off guard. In their years together, he'd never known Hammond to break into random grins. "Well sir, for once I come bearing some good news. Like we spoke of, I met with the relevant governments and they're all on board. When Disclosure goes forward, they have expressed a willingness to open relations and introduce themselves to the people of Earth in any way consistent with the Disclosure plans. That way we don't have a ship over Manhattan or London on day one. I've got to say, a couple were very open to it. The Langarans are practically begging for an alliance or compact of some sort. It seems our military-to-military contacts with them have paid off. Plus, I'd say they owe us for that little assist with their naquadria problem."_

_Hayes smiled and practically raised his arms in triumph. "At least something's gone right for once."_

"_You could say that. There's more and it's a little odd. My meeting with Thor and the Asgard High Command was interesting, to say the least."_

"_Oh, I'm not sure that's ever a good thing."_

"_Here's the big news. The Asgard want a meeting, here on Earth, with us at a minimum and possibly with the entire IOA."_

"_Did they indicate a reason? That's a little unusual for them. They've always seemed inclined to deal exclusively with the US and the SGC."_

"_Thor was being very circumspect, even by his reticent standards. I'm not sure, Mister President, as to what's going on with this. It was as if they had something to say but were holding off. But Thor was clear that they want a high level summit with us as soon as possible and that type of urgency worries me a lot."_

_The room went quiet as Hayes considered Hammond's words. "Jack? What are you thinking?"_

"_I'm thinking that if Thor wants to talk, we talk. And we listen. The Asgard, for all their technology, believe they're a species on the decline. Could it be the Ori? Possibly. But from the way George describes it, it's more than that and that worries me as well. Then again, I'm not known for clairvoyance."_

"_Clairvoyance or not, we need to be ready. I'm afraid we could be losing our 'Asgard crutch' as it were. The Navy says they're as helpful yet condescending as always. If they're retreating from an active role, that presents some problems for a lot of worlds, not just us."_

_The thought of an Asgard retreat was not Jack's happiest idea. "I don't believe they'd ever fully leave us in a lurch. They've invested so much in protecting so many planets; I just don't see it yet. Plus, they know that it was us who saved them from the Replicators, 'inferior' technology or not."_

"_I love a little mystery…"_

Jack was brought back into the present by the voice of General Balderson, who was finishing up his remarks with an admonition to adapt to the new reality. _As if it was that simple._ His reverie was broken by Balderson.

"I'll let General O'Neill say a few things and then we'll discuss where we go from here. Jack?"

Jack walked to the front and looked at the assembled group, weary of having to think of everything, or so he thought. He looked at Carter and it dawned on him. There were a lot of smart people in this room and he had to trust in them, no matter his inner control freak. That tendency had been hardened through loss, torture and a hundred other depravations. One thought crept in: _It's their time now._

"I'm going to keep my remarks short and let Colonel Carter, who is infinitely smarter than I am, explain the Stargate and the basics behind it. I can only ask that as you go forward and learn the things we've lived with the last decade, that you stay open minded and willing to adapt, because they only constant out there is change and it'll blindside you.

"There are a lot of things I could say, some of them smart and some outlandish, something I'm known for. As someone will unfortunately tell you, I've been through a lot in this program. I don't tell you that in some attempt to build my 'cred' or anything like that. I only say it because it's what can and will happen to you when you go through that gate. You'll be assaulted by so many different things that it'll blow you away. There are good people, bad people, evil aliens, good aliens and everything else you can think of. Over the next few months you'll need to adapt to things that now reside in your wildest imagination. I could continue but it's best that you just learn for yourself; consider it OJT on steroids. I think I'll leave it at that for now." Jack turned then thought of something else.

"Oh, General Darden? You guys want a fight? Sadly, you're going to get it."


	16. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: A special thanks goes out to guest contributor Lightning Count for authoring one of the following scenes with his usual excellence. I'll leave it to the reader to guess which one. Thanks to the many people who have reviewed the story and offered their assessments. I know that installments have been slow but real life is keeping me far too busy. Now, on to tonight's episode…_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**Roman Terra**

Like a million other activations on a thousand other worlds, the gate roared to life with its tell-tale watery spike and settled into its shimmering pool, like the calm waters of an ocean. And like those other gates it began to disgorge its precious cargo, in this case a small party of humans with the all-too-usual look of anticipation and nervousness. Psychologists working for the SGC had written extensively about travelers arriving for the first time at a new location, no matter how experienced they were with gate-borne travel. They had even taken to using video camera to record faces for posterity and research. All the images showed the same apprehensive looks of resolute purpose and nervous despair. In this case, the group, made up of experienced diplomats and soldiers, did their best to project absolute confidence that they well knew to be an utter lie.

After much discussion and consultation, the IOA had agreed to send a diplomatic team to Roman Terra, the home of the mysterious Prior-killing soldiers. The discussions so far, held at the SGC, had been an eye-opening. It was now believed, based on the descriptions provided by the Romans, that their civilization had been wretched away during some part of the height of the Roman Empire on Earth. Many still withheld judgment, waiting for the opportunity to visit the Roman's home world and judge for themselves the veracity of the evidence. That time had finally arrived.

As the Earthers broke the plain of the wormhole, they found themselves it what appeared to be a large building with a cantilevered roof and many flood lights shining down towards their arrival point. It gave off an aura as if they were arriving from some celestial place. As they bounded down the metal ramp that bore similarity to the SGC's, they saw their reception committee waiting to greet them. It was imposing, even to the experienced veterans among the group. Waiting at the bottom of the ramp were two men, each of who looked just as anxious but doing their best to conceal it. Behind them was a multitude of civilians and military officers in their finest. An honor guard lined both sides of the ramp.

"_Honored dignitaries, welcome to Roman Terra. We are pleased to welcome you to our world."_

British Ambassador Landsdowne spoke for the Earth delegation. "Thank you Ambassador. We are pleased that we have been welcomed to your world and we look forward to learning more about it."

Ambassador Celsus turned to the uniformed man next to him. _"Please allow me to introduce the Emperor's military advisor,__Legatus Legionis__ Marcellus Tarsus, who will chair our military to military meetings."_

"Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you. Let me introduce Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon, Colonel Henry Preston and Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, who will represent the militaries of Earth." Salutes and handshakes were exchanged in the normal fashion.

"_If you'll follow us, we'll adjourn to the room we've set aside for our discussions."_

"Of course Ambassador." The party followed Celsus towards a side door and into a hallway. Soon they found themselves in a large conference room that luckily had room for all the interested parties in the negotiations.

What followed that day was a haze of meetings, small and large, each side attempting to figure out the other. A game of chess began; diplomacy in its truest and oldest form. Finally, the parties broke up into groups based on specialty. Glyndon, Mitchell and Preston, along with their interpreter, found themselves facing a small group of Roman military officers who looked all business.

Tarsus wasted no time in getting to the apparent point of his interests. A photo was produced and slid on the polished table towards the Earth officers. Glyndon picked it up to examine and did his best to hide the sudden surprise. In the photograph was the original Prior, splayed out upon his cross. Glyndon looked up at Tarsus.

"_Colonel, I'd like to know who or what these 'people' are and what their intentions are."_ Tarsus nearly spat out the word 'people' with a venomous twist.

Glyndon nearly blinked but controlled himself like the professional he was. _This could be an opportunity._

**Atlantis**

The blue ocean water sped past at an amazing blur to the passengers strapped into the compartments, most of whom had never experienced such a thing. Two helicopters, among the finest in Earth-based engineering, thundered at a low altitude as they made their way from the nearby mainland to the majestic city of spires their crews called home. The doors to the compartments on both were open, allowing an unfettered view of the expansive sea for miles around. The American UH-60L Blackhawk and the British HC3 Merlin were making a scheduled run from the Athosian settlement to the city of the Ancients. Everything about it screamed of military importance, from the trained crews to the sleekness of their lines, except of course for the excited laughter of the children in the backseats, who like their Earth cousins on roller coasters just wanted the ride to go faster.

"Faster! Faster Colonel!" The group of 6-10 year olds screamed out their approval as Sheppard sat back on the netted seat with a large smirk. There were days when the job was really fun.

"Please Colonel Sheppard! Faster! Please!"

"You guys want to go faster?"

"YESSS!"

"Okay."

Sheppard activated his headphones and switched over to the pilot's net. "Hey Dan, we've got a request from the peanut gallery for an air show. They want fast and low."

Chief Warrant Officer 3 Dan Boyle broke into a wide smile. "Is that so Colonel? Well, let's see what we and our British cousins can do." Boyle switched his communications net over to the guard frequency to speak to his Royal Air Force colleague in the Merlin.

"Crown Two, this is Eagle Two. We're getting a special request from our younger passengers for some fun. You game?"

"_We're getting the same request Eagle. What have you in mind?"_

"A little follow the leader. I'll take lead. Let's see what that fine European engineering will do for you."

"_Copy that colonial riffraff."_

"Alright, let's get low and fast."

The Blackhawk suddenly pitched to its right and banked low as its engines began to pound even harder like a horse shown spurs. The Merlin followed suit, and the passengers were amazed as one side found them staring straight down at the blue sea below, only the straps keeping them securely in the aircraft as the crew chief kept careful watch. After the dramatic turns the choppers dived towards the water and thundered at low altitude with their passengers loving every second of the ride as they pitched side to side. Others took note of the show as well.

"Whoa, they're putting the moves on."

That comment drew the attention of the watch officer manning the Combined Air Operations Center or CAOC that had been set up at Atlantis to handle all the new air traffic.

"What's that Mike?"

"The inbound choppers coming from the Athosian settlement sir. They seem to be putting on an air show. They're coming in fast and low and they've gone evasive. Looks like a little follow the leader."

"Oh really?" Major Ethan McClain activated his radio headset as he chuckled and shook his head. "Eagle Two, Home Plate. Status?"

"_Home Plate, Eagle Two. Inbound ETA, two minutes with precious cargo. Per Command Four, we're practicing SAM evasion techniques."_

McClain wanted to laugh but restrained himself. _SAM evasion my ass._ "Copy Eagle Two. Be advised winds are from the north at 20 knots, altimeter is 210. You're cleared for visual approach and the skies are clear."

"_Copy Home Plate."_

The two choppers approached the massive spires and passed by, allowing the small children an unparalleled view of the massive city. Sheppard smiled as the children gaped at the massive city from high above. He loved this part of the job as it showed that the Earth crowd wasn't all business and that life in the Pegasus Galaxy could have some normalcy. It was a small thing, but significant none the less.

Each chopper flared up and lowered to the newly constructed pads on one of the cities piers that now served as the command's aviation facility. Soon enough, the engines shut down, the blades slowed to a stop and Teyla Emmagen was seen jogging out to meet the passengers.

"Teyla! Teyla! You have to see what we did!"

A knowing smile crossed her face. "I know children. I've seen it many times. Come with me."

Teyla led the boisterous group off the helipad and towards a small group of uniformed personnel headed by a smiling middle-aged officer in the uniform of the French Army. Teyla turned towards the group. "Young ones, this is Major Ronsard. He and his friends are going to do checkups on all of you to make sure you are all healthy, isn't that right Major?"

"Of course! _Bonjour_ children! Welcome to this beautiful city. We're going to make sure you all grow up healthy and happy."

"Your voice is funny." The group chuckled at one child's open honesty.

"You think so? I am from a wonderful place called France. It is full of beautiful country and a giant city known as Paris. We call it the _City of Light_. When we are done I will show you pictures of my home and teach you a little of our language. Now, come with us and we will make sure you are all healthy. I promise a treat when we are done!"

The cheering group of children was led away to Atlantis' combat hospital as Sheppard walked off the pad and into the city. It was still strange to many of the inhabitants how truly empty the city was. A city that could support half a million now had a bare fraction of that and it would be a long time before the numbers rose. Large portions were only now being explored and catalogued for future residence. Sheppard walked down the wide street as a newly delivered HMMWV pulled up to the curb next to him. A Russian lieutenant stuck his head out the passenger window.

" Comrade Colonel! Your presence is requested at operations by the general. He asked us to come pick you up."

"Well if the boss calls, I answer. Let's go."

As the HMMWV rolled through the landscape of Atlantis Sheppard looked over at the Russian lieutenant in the front passenger seat, who looked incredibly young and eager.

"What do you think of this place Lieutenant?"

"Incredible sir. What do you Americans say? Biting off a lot to chew?"

"Something like that."

"Will we be fighting these Wraith soon comrade colonel?"

"I wouldn't bet against it. Don't be in a hurry to die."

Soon enough the HMMWV pulled up to the tall building that served as the vast city's nerve center. Sheppard jumped out, thanked the Russian and bounded into the building. Upon arriving in the command center he climbed up the stairs and knocked on Birmingham's door.

"You need me sir?"

"Yeah, John, please come in. We have a bit of a problem at the moment."

"What's up?"

"Apparently, one of your recon teams has run into trouble on R55-844. They were there meeting with the indigenous population and gathering some intel on Wraith movements. Well, it seems the locals took the civilian scientist, Doctor Castleton, hostage and wounded Staff Sergeant Neeld. They just got back and I want some answers."

Sheppard took a second to recall the specific world. "The people they were visiting were peaceful on every previous visit; I've been there once myself. They're a pre-industrial agrarian society that had been culled by the Wraith in the distant past. I sat in on their pre-mission briefing the other day and we had no indication of any problems, just the usual issues."

"Well, something changed or our people fumbled badly. Let's go down to the hospital." With that both men exited the office and headed down stairs.

"How's that Athosian medical mission going?"

"Good. Teyla has them convinced that we don't have any ulterior motives luckily. We brought over a group of kids just now for the French medics to work on. The usual stuff, medical and dental checkups."

"Okay. Those civil affairs missions are going to be a big part of our bread and butter for a while. It'll keep us in a lot of people's good graces plus it makes our operating area a little more palatable and it makes Doctor Weir's job that much easier."

"No argument here sir. My guys like those missions as much as our Wraith hunting parties."

"I'd like to see us continue with selective targeting of the Wraith if we can. The Seventh Rangers are kicking Ori assholes left and right back in the Milky Way and I'd like to employ some of their tactics if Weir and the IOA will sign off. The Russians want a shot at the title so to speak; maybe we'll give it to them."

"Be nice to put them on the defensive for a while."

Both men rounded a corner and found themselves entering a busy clinic area bustling not only with visiting children but with the usual traffic of a small outpost. French, American and German medics bustled about as well as civilian specialists. Sheppard saw Doctor Keller nearby and walked over.

"Hey Doc, do you know where they've got Staff Sergeant Neeld?"

"In the ER, down the hall and the second right. What happened?"

"No idea yet. Thanks."

Birmingham and Sheppard proceeded down the hall and found Neeld's teammates outside his room. Army Major Bob Fleming and Air Force Master Sergeant Steve Pollini were standing outside in their field uniforms as medical staff blew past them. Upon seeing the arriving forms of Birmingham and Sheppard they snapped to attention.

"Relax guys. What the hell happened out there?"

Fleming looked incredulous. "Sir, I honestly have no idea. We had developed a good relationship with these people in the past and they'd fed us some information. As soon as we got there this time, something was different; I can't fully explain it but things were definitely odd. One of the village elders was acting as ringleader and I saw nothing but hate in his eyes. There was definite animosity and to be blunt, they were fucking mad sir. It was some type of Salem Witch Trial scene out of a movie."

Birmingham crossed his arms. "So what happened with Doctor Castleton and Sergeant Neeld?"

"As soon as we came through the gate, we were met by a large crowd armed with farm implements and sharpened weapons. Before we could extricate ourselves, several large males had jumped the Doctor and dragged him off. As that was happening, Sergeant Neeld had taken the laceration to his arm and was bleeding badly."

Sergeant Pollini picked up the story. "It was at that point sir that I shot one in self-defense. Definitely dead; it was a head shot. We were too out numbered so I grabbed Neeld, made it to the DHD while the Major laid down cover fire and I re-dialed Atlantis."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown sir. I know we caused a few with our cover fire but it happened so quickly that I can't give you an accurate number sir."

Sheppard picked up the questioning. "It sounds like they were waiting for you guys. Any idea why?"

Major Fleming shook his head as he looked down at his boots. "No sir. I hadn't even had time to think about that but you're right. They knew we were coming back for a visit but not exactly when. They had to have been set up for a while. Fucking savages."

Sheppard's face flushed and he closed the distance with Fleming. "Major, I understand you're upset at this moment because I've been there too, but I never want to hear that crap out of your mouth again. Look around. We've got a hospital full of Athosian children. We're trying to win people's support and if they heard that shit, you'd blow it for us. There's got to be more to this. You're an experienced operator and you know it. We'll find out what happened but keep that stuff in your head. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Go get cleaned up and get some chow guys. We'll debrief more in 30 minutes in the command center."

"Yes sir." With that both walked off and Sheppard turned to Birmingham. "This is too weird. We'd never had problems with these people in the past. I'm betting there's some sort of outside influence involved that might be pulling strings."

"We'll find out. Our top priority is Doctor Castleton's recovery. By the way, I like how you handled that. Fleming's a great operator; he knows better." With that they started towards Neeld's room only to see Weir coming towards them with her usual look of harried concern.

"I just heard General. What do we know?"

"Not enough at the moment. According to Major Fleming, the team was jumped by an armed and hostile mob immediately upon their arrival on the planet. Doctor Castleton was taken hostage and Staff Sergeant Neeld was wounded. This is a population that our teams have visited and worked with in the past without any indication of problems."

"Wraith influence?"

"I don't know Doctor, and that's what bothers me. I have a Russian platoon on standby as the QRF. I'm thinking we have them and some of Sheppard's men ready for a possible rescue miss..."

"Hold on General. I have reservations about that."

Birmingham cocked his head to the side and a faint smile crossed his lips. "How so Doctor?"

"We have no idea what we're dealing with and I'd like to keep the use of force out of this as long as possible. Plus, I have serious reservations about using our Russian troops right now."

"What would those 'reservations' be?" _I knew this was coming._

"A bad impression goes a long way General and I'm seriously concerned about their use of force. They have a reputation for shooting first, second and last. Ask the Georgians."

"Doctor, the Russians are our partners in this endeavor. They've signed off on the rules of engagement as set forth by the IOA and I have faith in them. They work for me; they're _my_ men.

"Plus, I'd like to get past this false and useless dichotomy between all-talk and all-shoot. Doctor, you assume because I suggest a rescue mission that I want my people to go in shooting. I have no such immediate intention at all. My job is to plan for all contingencies and give you all the options. We have non-lethal options, especially in dealing with a small and technologically unsophisticated population. However, I must point out the obvious. We have a member of this expedition taken captive by hostile residents of an alien planet who used deadly weapons against our personnel, resulting in the use of deadly force. A line was crossed that'll be hard to fall back from. Certainly not impossible, but damn hard."

_I really underestimated this guy. _Weir looked over at Sheppard to gauge his thoughts on the matter. By mutual agreement, they had decided to stop using first names in public so as to make Birmingham more comfortable with the command arrangement. It was difficult however; too much had happened over time between them.

"Colonel, what are your thoughts?"

"The first thing is to find out if his subcutaneous tracking chip is intact. We need to get a solid location before anything else matters. The General is right. We have options.

"This isn't the first time we've dealt with this sort of thing and frankly, I'm tired of it. As for the Russians, they're part of us now, warts and all. This is our fight, all of us. It has to end and today's as good of a day as any. This isn't the Atlantis of old; it's a new day and we're in for all the money."

Weir sighed internally. _It's a new day. _"What do you have in mind?"

A smile appeared without warning. "Let's get low and fast."

**Fort Carson, CO**

The headquarters of the 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) was by its very nature a busy operation. Like the rest of the SOF community, the work load had been increasing exponentially while the unit had stayed the same size. Recent changes were about to change that, even if most didn't know the real reason. After years of debate, the Army was adding an extra battalion to each group. To the operators of the 10th, it couldn't happen soon enough. Added to the strain of Iraq, Afghanistan and dozens of smaller missions all over the world was the specter of the SGC and an entire universe. To many of the Tenth's operators, _enough was enough._ They were energized by the mission but overwhelmed by a work load and a deployment schedule that never let up, stretching families and resources. Divorces and separations were on the rise, even among families used to the strain of deployments. Experienced operators were indicating that they would separate at the end of their contracts. Such a drain of talent was a nightmare to the unit's leadership. With these factors at play, the current conversation was completely understandable.

"So, is that story about Captain Haney true? Did he _really _hook up with a supermodel recently or is that just urban legend?" The tone of the speaker's voice revealed what he thought of this particular story.

"It is no-shit true. Apparently he goes on leave to New York where his sister works for one of the fashion publications, as a writer I think. They go out to dinner with some of her friends and coworkers and they meet up with some of these models they know."

"That right there would be enough of a story. Dinner with supermodels? You've got to be kidding me."

"Well, apparently Haney strikes up a conversation with this one in particular who's not exactly a strain on the eyes and they hit it off. If you believe this, she's got a degree in fine arts from Vassar and speaks three languages fluently and finds Special Forces guys utterly fascinating. They start dating under the radar and wham, get engaged. I can't make up that type of stuff."

"Then it is true: some guys have all the luck. I hope she knows what she's getting into. You want some of this coffee?"

"No, and for God's sake, don't insult real coffee by calling that brewed sludge the real thing." With that, the commander of the 2nd Battalion, 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. He was notorious about his coffee.

"Please. Don't insult my coffee-making abilities. It kept that TOC at Kandahar going all last winter."

"I thought it was that leggy brunette from NSA who did that."

"Ha! I don't think coffee was her primary specialty."

"She had some specialties?"

"Apparently."

The laughter died down and the two experienced operators turned to more serious matters. The current ops tempo was number one.

"I'm telling you this now. They had better not be coming here to tell me I've got to throw more of my teams out there without a break. How much more can they ask of my guys? I'm losing people no matter the re-up bonus and whatever else we can offer them. If the SGC or JSOC comes in here with another 'great opportunity', there'll be blood." Lt. Col. Mike Paschendale was in his druthers. The target of his pronouncements looked nonplussed.

Lt. Col. Jeff Sullivan from the group operations staff could only agree; he'd been fighting the battle for months. A shrug of the shoulders followed. "Preaching to the choir Mike."

"I know. I know. But O'Neill's probably going to come marching in here and tell us to suck it up and enjoy the responsibility of defending the known universe." The sentiment was followed by a tired shake of the head. "JSOC is just robbing Peter to pay Paul as the saying goes."

"You know what they're saying at Bragg and MacDill, that we should be honored to be working the great frontier like some fucking _Star Trek_ episode. I know you guys are frustrated Mike. We all are. We've got to cut down the commitments and get a hold on things. The SGC is just the tipping point. We've got the Rangers playing bocce with Ori formations but how long is that gonna last? Those morons are going to get smart here pretty soon. So I'm with you Mike."

"Mike McNulty's boys have been pretty lucky so far, but hey, you take what fate is throwing. If they want us out there doing the nasty, fine, but don't hit us with all this extraneous crap…my guys aren't supermen, no matter the rep." Paschendale was cut off as the door to the secure intelligence facility opened and a group of officers walked in. The two Green Berets rose at the familiar appearance of Jack O'Neill.

"Good morning sir."

"Morning guys. Have no fear, I come with good news." Jack laid a thick mess of briefing papers on the table along with the coffee he picked up on the way in.

_Oh, shit. Here we go…_ "What's up today?"

"Mike, I get to tell you that, as of today, Second Battalion is off all operations and will be in training mode here at Carson. JSOC and the combatant commands are recalling all your teams as of today. Your guys are going to get a breather."

Paschendale came close to spitting coffee all over Jack. "I'm sorry sir?"

Jack cocked his head to the side. "You got something to be sorry about?"

It had taken time for Paschendale to adjust to Jack's humor and he still missed the signs on occasion. "No sir, it's just that…"

"Relax. We've got a job for your boys and it's a doozy. It'll require all your attention and that means your total focus will be SGC-based. No more Iraq, Georgia or Africa for the time being. I want your people to reconstitute and get some rest. I know how much your teams have been hit for missions and we're going to cut that totally to have them ready. This one is right up your alley."

"Another Jaffa training mission?" The 10th, along with its sister groups had done its fair share of that.

Jack took a long drag on his coffee. "No, but a good guess. This one comes from the top. And when I mean 'top' I mean 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You know, the man?"

Paschendale and Sullivan simultaneously arched their eyebrows at Jack's comment. While it wasn't unusual for the 10th to get high-level tasking, this was not the normal scenario.

"Ok sir. I'm officially intrigued."

"What have you guys been reading and hearing about the Lucian Alliance?"

Paschendale snorted. "Those thugs? The Chicago Mafia with spaceships. They've been a pain in the ass but not much more. They love to skulk around and feed off the chaos. Weapons, drugs, piracy. They've got some outlying territories under their thumb but not much more. Our guys haven't run across them too much, although they've heard some idle talk about their level of influence on Dakara. Word was they were recruiting some Jaffa shooters but it wasn't followed up on because of the Ori threat. We passed it along to DIA."

Sullivan nodded in agreement. "An A Team from Fifth Group had a little shootout with them awhile back that we took a deeper look at. If I remember, they killed three of them. Overall, they're kinda like the intergalactic version of the FARC crew down in Colombia. Why do you ask?"

"They've officially moved from 'pain in the ass' to 'clear and present danger'. Read for yourselves. Oh, and thank the United States Navy while your at it." Jack handed each a folder with the usual classification markings. Both colonels took a minute to read the first paragraphs of an intelligence summary. Sullivan reacted first. He's read some startling intelligence summaries in his time but this one took the cake.

"Jesus Christ. Are you joking? Do we have a line on these guys?"

"We're working that now."

"Do we know where these guys are exactly?"

"We've got a lot of folks figuring that out and they're all smarter than me. We'll find them and then… nasty things."

"What's our part in this?"

Per our Commander-in-Chief, we're now to use any and all assets to put a stop to this and blunt this stuff. He wants Lucian Alliance on a spit. That's where you come in."

"Direct action?"

"Not right away, although you'll get to use those skills. I want you and your people taking Alliance 101. The Jaffa are sending a couple of their intelligence guys, and before you ask, yes, Teal'c vouches for them. They're coming with all their latest information on the Alliance's movements and leadership. We're getting the Langarans and possibly some others involved as well since they're as pissed as we are. I also am waiting to talk to the Hebridians; supposedly they've got some Serrakins who know the counter-insurgency game."

"What about McNulty and his guys? Are we getting the Seventh involved in this?"

"No. We're keeping their attention focused on the Ori for now. That's enough for them but later on we might borrow them if the mission dictates but I want McNulty sewing panic with those fanatics."

"What about ISR assets? We're competing for those as it is."

"We're working on that. The good news is that we'll be using the first Super Rivet with Grey Fox doing the work. The President approved the mission and they'll be listening in for anything interesting. We know the Lucians are heavily invested in Goa'uld legacy tech so hacking their comms won't be as tough.

"I'm serious about this. Start getting your teams familiarized with everything Alliance. Their ops, equipment, movements, everything. We're generating some intelligence on them but we need more so come up with some solid ideas on how to get it. Then start putting some concepts of operation together, stuff Landry and I can take to DC and sell. Get thinking outside the box. You took down the Taliban with a bunch of guys on donkeys and some air cover. Just swap spaceships for donkeys. Everything from covert surveillance to targeted kills…"

"The President and SECDEF will sign off on that?"

"They're pissed enough to order a hit on the Easter Bunny if you get actionable intel. Personally, I say we find their world and pop the cork on some Mark Eight's but I'm no expert."

"We all know how much you and your team loved blowing things up."

"Yeah, and I'm getting the itch to do it again. You'd be surprised how it works as a stress reliever."

**Beta Site**

He emerged into the room with a faint shiver, the chill of gate travel a very new and tingling experience that jangled every nerve and left him feeling like a child who had just eaten far too much ice cream. According to the briefing the chill was because his body had just been broken down into its component molecules, zapped across several dozen light years, and then slapped back together like a man sized Lego kit. It was an extraordinary experience, yet it had ended quickly and now he was once more confronted with a real and tangible world, it just wasn't the one he was used to.

He was indoors, stepping out into a hangar sized room made of grey/brown concrete slabs merged together with inelegant but practical simplicity. In layout it was rather similar to the gate room back on Earth but somewhat smaller and less complicated. This stargate still had its DHD providing it with autonomous power and direction removing the necessity of extensive computer control and superconductors which so dominated the facility beneath Cheyenne Mountain. There was still a control room mounted one level up behind armored glass but its function was less varied than the one back home with a proportionally smaller staff.

The space immediately in front of the gate to the left and right was dominated by two 'L' shaped walls of reinforced concrete manned by uniformed soldiers watching his arrival. Well armed with rifles and heavy machine guns they remained alert despite the assurance that this most recent of arrivals was not an alien invader. The SGC had ingrained from the start that caution saved lives.

Ahead of all these however standing at the foot of the gate was a dark uniformed naval officer waiting with a wide smile. He allowed the new arrival to step down, the shimmering aura of blue and white light closing down behind him.

"First time?"

"First time." The arrival confirmed. "I've read about it, but it doesn't do the experience any justice."

"That's the truth." The officer agreed. "Commander Philip Halter, United States Navy." He extended his hand. "Welcome to the Beta Site."

"Lieutenant Commander Thomas Woodward of Her Majesty's Royal Navy." The new arrival shook Halters outstretched hand, salutes normally being reserved for outside meetings. "I can honestly say it's great to be here."

"Nothing quite like it." The American smiled again. "If you'll follow me we better get started, I'll be happy to give you the ten dollar tour a little later on."

"Sounds good to me." Woodward nodded, bearing a briefcase in his hand and his white topped cap under his arm. "Where are we exactly anyway Commander?"

"We haven't given it an official name yet." Halter led Woodward to the door. "It's pretty nice outside, temperate, lot like Oregon back home. The gravity is a little heavier, the air a little richer, and man is the air clean out here! You get used to it on Earth but when you take a breath of fresh air on a world which has never even seen a car? Really lets you know you ain't in Kansas anymore."

The two naval officers departed the Gate room; both in similar dark blue double breasted jackets with only the particulars of rank and crest truly differentiating them. As they passed the guards manning the Gate room defenses Woodward noted they were Australian troops, the blue flag of their nation prevalent on their shoulders.

"This is an IOA facility." Halter noticed his gaze. "Fully international, we have representatives from all the signatory nations here. Some are scientists, researchers, that sort of thing as well as military personnel."

Woodward nodded. "Is there a lot of research out here?"

"Some, but not as much as the Alpha Site." Halter informed. "We have more of a defensive responsibility, supporting operations against the Ori and offering a secure fall back point for our teams."

They walked through the corridors, each foot of the facility displaying the same practical no frills layout of the gate room. On the way they passed a small detachment of French troops as well as a pair of civilians pouring over a set of print outs.

"One of our main responsibilities is holding prisoners taken during missions." Halter added. "Which brings us to the point."

They arrived at the end of a corridor marked by a large metal door and a key pad. Halter swiped his identity card through the pad and entered a six digit code, unlocking the door.

"I was informed you had a prisoner here under interrogation?" Woodward stated. "But nothing more than that."

"The details were a little sensitive to distribute, at least until you got here." Halter pushed the door open and revealed a small security station, a pair of US Marines guarding a trio of Military Police personnel. One sat at a small metal desk with a computer while the other two were monitoring a bank of security camera monitors.

"Morning Sir." The desk officer welcomed. "Can I check your credentials?"

The two naval officers handed over their ID for another check, security being essential, and waited for the MP to run them through his computer.

"Okay, that all checks out." He handed the cards back. "Thank you sirs."

"No problem." Halter nodded. "Is Agent Pollard already through?"

"Yes sir, he went through about an hour ago."

The MP buzzed them through, opening a further metal door granting them passage into the cell block itself, well separated from the main structure of the base. There were twenty separate cells along with two fully equipped interview rooms at the near side of the block, Halter leading them through the second door to the left.

Woodward found himself in a monitoring room, very darkly lit with a glass screen on the left hand side looking through into the first interview room. A series of cameras were set up to record through the glass while a set of tables and chairs offered somewhere for any interested parties to watch events unfold.

One such interested party was Agent Eric Pollard of the CIA. A narrow faced man with hard lined skin and cropped hair he watched the world through small blue eyes with a cigarette clenched firmly between his teeth. Pollard was the CIA's liaison to Stargate Command, a role he was eager to excel in, but before then had cut his teeth working with Coalition Forces in Afghanistan. No stranger to interrogations he had been entrusted with delivering whatever information he could from the prisoners returned by off world teams, and while he was more than willing to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty he was also practical enough to realize there were many alternative ways of securing information.

He offered a striking contrast with Halter, a younger and brighter looking officer seconded from the Office of Naval Intelligence. Where Halter would not have looked out of place in a Bond film, Pollard represented the unglamorous and often unsung back room operatives whose persistence often saved uncounted lives.

"Morning Eric, anything new?"

"Hey Phil." Pollard acknowledged. "Nah, nothing, he's been sat there without a word for the last fourteen hours."

"Stubborn little asshole." Halter grunted. "This is the guy you requested, Commander Woodward, Agent Pollard."

"Welcome to the new frontier." The CIA man spoke gruffly. "It's a lot like the old frontier."

"I didn't know I'd been requested for this?" Woodward considered. "May I ask why?"

"According to your jacket you were part of Royal Navy intelligence before the Perisher?" Pollard stated. "And specifically you worked in Sierra Leone?"

"That's right, yes." Woodward said. "I had to interview rebels and insurgents the Royal Marines picked up during their peacekeeping missions."

"Then we got the right guy." Pollard nodded. "Your experience in Sierra Leone is why you are here, the sort of people you had to interrogate are a lot like this guy." He pointed through the glass. "Rebels and mercenaries more interested in breaking down the government to take a cut of the diamond mines."

"No ideology, no vision, no great cause." Halter said. "Just a desire to make a major profit no matter the human cost. Our prisoner is a member of the Lucian Alliance taken a few days ago attacking a Free Jaffa transport. We'd like you to try and get inside his head, find out what he knows."

Woodward looked through the glass at the man, a relatively young individual seated behind a simple desk with his hands folded before him. He could have been from anywhere on Earth, yet amazingly he was from an alien world born and raised without even the knowledge Woodward's home even existed. It was a remarkable concept to grasp, but fortunately the gaps between stars had done little to change human nature.

"We tried a few basic questions." Halter remarked. "But he's unresponsive. We know he was captain of the Al'Kesh we took and his ship had undertaken a number of sensitive missions before hand."

"What sort of missions?"

Pollard exhaled a wisp of blue smoke. "He inserted several Lucian Alliance agents on Earth."

"On Earth?" Woodward raised an eyebrow.

"They were dropped into warzones, we believe in an attempt to further destabilize certain areas." He handed over a folder. "All in there."

He began reading through. "You think they're trying to limit our actions off world by forcing us to look inward?"

"That was our guess." Halter confirmed. "But we'd like to hear it from the horse's mouth."

"Captain Haran." Woodward glanced up at the figure.

"We need that information." Pollard said. "If he won't tell us straight up we'll have to take the interrogation up to the next level, sensory depravation, disorientation, Barney the Dinosaur."

"And no one deserves Barney." Halter grinned a little.

Woodward nodded. "If it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll take that bridge if we come to it." Pollard said. "But I'd really prefer not to."

Woodward closed the folder. "Then I'll see what I can do."

Like most people Tom Woodward had been surprised when he was informed about the Stargate program. Truthfully surprise didn't cover it, at first he assumed it was just a test to see how he reacted, to check how well he handled surprise leading him to keep an absolutely straight face and reply with the simple phrase 'I see' while maintaining his stiff upper lip.

Woodward was extremely good at maintaining a blank face and hiding any hint of his emotions or knowledge from opponents. It made him a devilish poker player and a natural interrogator. He had followed in his father's footsteps and decided to use his skills in the Royal Navy, joining up the day he left university with a first class degree in English Literature from Oxford, an education which let him think quickly on his feet and pick holes in the multi-layered stories that his opponents wove to hide their guilt.

He had found himself working in the Intelligence Community, often attached to MI6 operating in foreign nations and Embassies. Beside Sierra Leone he had also operated in Iraq and the Balkans before finding himself desiring a change and requesting a transfer to a front line position. Specifically on submarines.

The Royal Navy Submarine Service was notoriously difficult to be accepted into with officers needing to complete the 'Perisher' course, an incredibly intensive series of tests designed to pile on the pressure and push the candidates to their breaking point. Woodward was one of the few to pass on his first try and was posted to a hunter killer boat.

What he hadn't known was that his ability to think fast and react well to pressure had seen him earmarked for an even more prestigious posting, the British contribution to Homeworld Defense. That contribution was the Space Battle cruiser HMS _Royal Sovereign_, currently approaching completion at an ultra secret location near Porton Down among the myriad of deserted Scottish islands off the west Highland coast. The whole area had been used for chemical weapons testing after World War Two and was avoided like the plague by everybody in the vicinity, making it the perfect location for a hidden base.

While he waited for that posting he had been attached to the British IOA staff on the strength of his previous role as an intelligence officer, and now he was about to meet what was basically an alien life form. As well as hopefully gaining useful information it would also give Woodward a taste of alien culture and give him a slight glimpse of the universe beyond the bonds of Earth.

He paused briefly at the door, straightening his uniform and adjusting his briefcase, then with a strong air of confidence he cranked the handle and stepped in.

"Good day Captain Haran, I trust you are well?"

The Lucian Alliance member said nothing; dark eyes watching the naval officer close the door behind him with a dull click.

"I understand your injuries have been treated?" He laid his briefcase on the desk and placed his hat beside it. "Do you require any further attention?"

Haran still said nothing. Both his hands had been bandaged after being treated for electrical burns and he had been given a change of clothes, substituting his torn and scorched garments for a standard issue orange prison jump suit. His hands and ankles were cuffed but he was in healthy condition and recently fed.

"I am here to speak with you Captain. My name is Tom Woodward; I serve in the naval forces of my home nation and represent them as part of Earth's presence in space. I am here because you have information my superiors want, and they have asked me to find it."

Woodward sat down in the chair opposite Haran.

"And that Captain is all. I have no hidden agenda, no desire to trap you or make you seem foolish. I have told you truthfully and up front why I am here and I will answer any questions you may have, within certain guidelines of course."

He pulled his chair up to the desk and rested his hands on the table.

"I cannot divulge any confidential information, but I can tell you that we wish you no harm. Our world has laws governing the treatment of prisoners, you are quite safe."

Haran regarded the English officer, but said nothing, glancing aside and looking into the mirrored glass.

"However I must inform you that your future depends on cooperation."

Haran turned his gaze back.

"You were captured attacking a Free Jaffa vessel by a United States Naval vessel, and under US law you and your crew will likely be extradited to stand trial among your victims. Now, I'm no expert but I hear Jaffa justice is very…decisive."

Haran kept an even face, but a tiny frown formed on his brow.

Woodward sighed a little. "It's a pity really, no offence to the Jaffa of course but I'd much rather stay in our company, one of the Earth based courts would be a bit more even handed. Of course we could only keep you here if you started working with us, if you continued to be stubborn there wouldn't be much we could do."

Haran smiled slightly.

"Not a bad effort." He rasped. "Use the Jaffa as a threat, lets you keep your hands clean."

"I assure you Captain; we're not beyond getting our hands dirty if there's a need for it." Woodward remarked with a cold smile. "I'm just telling you how things are."

"By threatening me?"

"We don't do threats Captain, we just announce consequences."

Woodward broke off and opened his briefcase.

"I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea Captain Haran, we're not barbarians."

"No?"

"Far from it." He retrieved a wrapped bar of chocolate from his case and opened it. "I missed breakfast this morning, hope you don't mind if I catch up a little."

He began to devour the bar a little at a time, taking his time and making sure the rich scent passed under Haran's nostrils. The prisoner watched the morsel, but made no comment.

"Wonderful things these." Woodward grinned. "Chocolate, caramel and wafer. My fiancée hates it when I eat these things, not very healthy, but what is life without a little indulgence? Wouldn't you agree?"

Haran looked up into the Officer's face.

"We all need a little reward." Woodward continued, taking a second bar from his briefcase. "A little indulgence." He turned the bar over in his hand, Haran's eyes fixed on it. "I understand your last meal was fourteen hours ago?"

"Something like that."

"These bars aren't good for you, but they take the edge off your hunger." Woodward observed quietly. "So despite seeming bad, some good comes from them. Interesting idea that isn't it? What looks bad on the surface can actually turn out to be something good?"

Haran narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying sometimes you have to change your mind Captain. You may not want to, you may feel bad doing it, but it is worth it for the reward." Woodward held up the bar. "Do you understand?"

Haran nodded. "I understand what you are trying to say."

"A good start." Woodward held out the bar. "Enjoy."

Haran eagerly opened the bar and began to eat it, pausing the second he took the first bite, his eyes widening.

"I bet they don't have those where you come from do they?" Woodward grinned. "Why should food be functional, why can't it be enjoyable too? Back home we apply that idea to a lot of things, makes Earth a very nice place to live."

Haran grunted and quickly ate the chocolate bar, tossing aside the empty wrapper.

"So now what? You give me a treat and expect me to betray my brothers?"

"Not at all." Woodward dismissed. "As I said earlier, you have information we desire. The Lucian Alliance is still a mystery to us, all we want is some background."

"Background?"

"Yes, what did you think we wanted?" Woodward chuckled. "Command codes for your ships? Homes of your leaders so we can assassinate them? Locations of your bases so we can ransack them? Of course not! Weren't you listening Captain? That isn't how we do business. We don't strike unless someone becomes our enemy." He paused. "You haven't done anything that would make you our enemy Captain? Have you?"

Haran said nothing out loud, but his eyes confirmed the information recovered from his ships data banks.

"You are here because you were engaging in criminal activity, blatant criminal activity." Woodward continued. "But we are not at war, there have been no acts of war and we would very much like it to stay that way. It would be very unfortunate for the Lucian Alliance if they provoked us. I mean, you know that Captain, look how swiftly your own ships fell to a trainee crew on an untested Earth ship? Imagine what a fleet of fully trained warships would do? Imagine it Captain. Just imagine the carnage we would inflict on your brothers."

Woodward lowered his voice.

"We have bombs that can level whole continents in a flash. Our ships are all but impervious to your Ha'tak's; our fighter planes the product of the most intensive development and training regimes in the galaxy. You have glimpsed our soldiers at work, they are professionals, experts, and do you really think there is anyone in your Alliance to match them?"

Haran blinked nervously.

"No Captain, there aren't. And if we discover your Alliance is working against us, we will strike hard, strike sure, and leave nothing living in our path. You thought the Goa'uld were bad? Or the Ori? No Captain, we are Death, we are the Destroyer of Worlds, and I pray to God you haven't done something really, really stupid, something that could end in millions of deaths."

Haran looked down, a bead of sweat running down his temple. Inwardly Woodward was smiling.

"Captain, look at me. Look at me!"

Haran snapped his eyes up.

"If you have done something to provoke us you need to tell me now!" Woodward demanded. "If you tell me quickly we can correct it, we can stop a disaster before it starts! If you don't… Captain, don't you understand? It's up to you; it's all up to you." Woodward gave him an earnest stare.

"Only you can save the Lucian Alliance."

"I cannot betray my people!"

"If you don't tell me what you know there won't be any people! This goes beyond your concept of honor, millions of lives are at stake! Millions!" Woodward pressed. "Who gave you the right to make life and death decisions for whole planets?"

"I..I…"

"Dammit Haran!" Woodward slammed his fists down on the table. "What did you do? What the hell have you done to start a war!"

"It wasn't me! I didn't…"

"Didn't what?"

"My orders… they were just orders!"

"Listen to me carefully Captain, very carefully." Woodward leaned in. "There is still time, but we must act now. Stop this war Captain, for the sake of all you know stop it."

"I…we…" He sighed. "We infiltrated agents on Earth."

"Agents?"

"Their orders were to incite rebellion, anarchy."

"How many and where?"

"I can write a list."

"Do it." He took a blunt crayon and paper from his briefcase. "How did you know where to insert them?"

"The leadership has been watching your information broadcasts, they know the trouble spots, they wanted to… to just make you focus on home. It wasn't an act of war, I swear!"

"I believe you Captain, I really do." Woodward took back the paper and crayon, glancing at the mirror briefly. It was information they already had but it showed the Captain was ready to talk, if properly motivated. "With your help we can avert this slaughter."

"We are many things, but we aren't the Goa'uld." Haran shook his head. "But can you be so certain of all your friends?"

"You have a comment to make Captain?"

"The Jaffa are not nearly as innocent as you think Commander, not nearly." Haran grimaced. "They plot and scheme, they prepare to stab each other in the back, do you think they won't do the same to you?"

"So far they've given us no reason to doubt their motives. We are fighting side by side in this war after all." Woodward pointed out. "Now your Alliance on the other hand…"

"I'm sure some are pleasant and worthy friends, a minority. But I know the Tau'ri are not stupid, no one who can rise so far so fast makes it through pure luck alone." He smiled. "You have to have a contingency plan in case the Free Jaffa turn."

"While I enjoy the fact you are talking openly, I'd prefer to look at facts, not speculation."

"I have seen much out here, a lot of things you Tau'ri have not, could not. You are not common in the galaxy yet, you are easy to spot, easy to deceive, you are…" He searched for the right word. "…Tourists."

"Is that so?"

"Don't take just my word for it Commander; the galaxy is not a trustworthy place. When you have been out here a while you will learn what we have learned."

"And that is?"

"There is no one worth trusting."

He closed the case.

"There was never any need for it to go like this." Woodward said. "We should be allies Captain, we should be united."

"The Alliance and the Tau'ri?"

"You find that so hard to accept Captain?"

Haran shook his head. "We're from different places, that food you gave me, no one where I come from would take the time to create something so useless."

"We can afford the time Captain." Woodward said. "Our lives are not so full of surviving and serving that we must constantly strive. We can relax, we can take time out to indulge ourselves, something only the very rich can do out here. All we seek to do Captain is give everyone in this galaxy that same right. What is wrong with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?"

"It is not the concept Tau'ri, it is the implementation." Haran sighed. "You cannot force people to be happy."

"We offer a choice, a choice they have never had." Woodward said. "And the sad fact is because they have never had a choice they don't know what to do with it."

"There's more to it than that."

"I'm sure there is, but at the core it is the main problem." Woodward reasoned. "For thousands of years you have known only slavery, only the names of your oppressors changed. You were slaves, but you knew that, you had the certainty of structure in your lives. But now what? Now the Goa'uld have gone you don't have that structure anymore, you don't have someone telling you what to do, not yet. Our job is to help you decide yourselves where your people go. To decide together through elected leaders what you want to do, not simply be told and obey."

"That is because you don't know how things work out here." Haran said. "The strong rule, the weak obey."

"Not anymore." Woodward said. "Now you've got a choice, everyone does. We're didn't topple the Goa'uld to just take over and become conquerors ourselves. We're liberators, we want you to be free."

"The Tau'ri are naïve." Haran grunted. "If you had stayed on your world how many lives would not have been lost? Would we be slaves of Ra? Yes, but we'd be alive. You brought down the Goa'uld, but look at the price."

"And what price would future generations pay if we hadn't?" Woodward stated. "That is our difference Captain, the Alliance looks only at what they can gain in the here and now. We're looking at the future, at what the galaxy will be like in ten years, fifty years, a thousand years. You fight for what you can take, we're fighting for the future."

"Which is why you'll never win." Haran shook his head. "But you'll learn Tau'ri; you'll have that childish innocence knocked out of you."

"Really?"

"As you say the Alliance could not fight Earth without massive losses, but that doesn't mean you are the greatest power in the galaxy."

"Who said we were?"

"You say it with every breath, deciding for all of us that we will be free, and we will have democracy, supporting those who bleat like faithful sheep and striking those who disagree. Like us."

"I'm sorry you feel like that Captain." Woodward said. "But as I said at the beginning, it's important to remember that you can always change your mind, and that is because you have a choice."

"Perhaps this ability to choose is overrated?"

"Perhaps, but on my world millions have given up their lives, sacrificed themselves so their families and descendents would have that one single facet of life. The ability to decide for yourself. It may not seem like much, but it is the most valuable and the most costly gift anyone can give."

"You speak well, but what are they? Just words." Haran shook his head. "Most of your world doesn't even know about what happens here, or even that we exist! How can they support your actions when they don't know them? How is that democracy?"

"We have to work for a common good, and the IOA is many voices talking as one." Woodward said simply. "They don't always agree, in fact they often disagree very vocally, but on the important things we are united. Defeating the Goa'uld was one of those things, fighting the Ori is another."

"Ah yes the Ori." Haran scoffed. "How is that war going for you?"

"Not a bad question." Woodward accepted. "Apparently not as good as it's going for you. With military forces engaging the Ori fleet there are lots of easy pickings for your associates."

"I make no apologies for it, and I won't tell you where will strike next." Haran stated firmly. "I will not betray my people."

"Except the names you gave me."

"Correcting a mistake." Haran exhaled. "And saving more lives than stood to be lost."

"And how many lives will be lost through Alliance actions? Intercepting much needed supplies? Robbing resources?"

"Not Alliance lives, so why is it my concern?"

"Because right now only the Free Jaffa, Earth, and a handful of allies are holding the Ori, and if you undermine us they'll break through." Woodward explained. "And then what happens to the Lucian Alliance?"

"I'm sure our leaders have plans."

"Like that brilliant plan they had for Earth?"

Haran smiled. "Not this time, I have nothing else to tell you."

"I commend your loyalty, but it is misplaced."

"No, no I don't think it is."

"I've seen it before." Woodward shrugged. "A group takes you from poverty; they give you everything, food, clothes, money. They offer everything you could desire, all the things you'd never have without them. They give you a chance to be something special, and in return they ask for just one thing. Loyalty."

Woodward tilted his head. "Small price to pay isn't it?"

Haran made no immediate answer.

"But who are you loyal to Captain? You will follow orders without question to kill people who are no threat to you, to try and instigate wars, to steal and murder? Doesn't that strike you as wrong? Doesn't that sound like you are being used?"

"I won't betray my brothers."

"Only for their own good, right?"

"Yes."

"So it is in their own interest to be used like that? To be constantly exploited by the guys at the top?" Woodward frowned. "You think that's a good thing? It's like the system lords never went away. I'm sorry you don't feel like you need to help break your brothers out of this new slavery, a slavery with chains you can't see."

Haran sighed.

"I know that you weren't at the top, that you were just an Al'Kesh Captain, but you do have information that can help your people. Your leaders are not your friends; they are your enemies destroying your brothers and sisters for their own selfish greed. You have already helped to prevent one disaster, but for as long as they remain in charge how many others will happen?"

Woodward shook his head. "The Jaffa just want to kill you all, but we don't. We want to free you, and we'll start with you Captain Haran. I'm going to give you something nobody else can, that nobody else wants to. I'm giving you a choice. Will you help us Captain, or will you abandon your people to their fate?"

Haran leaned forward slightly. "Go to hell."

"Pity." Woodward sighed and stood up. "Speaking of hell I hear Dakara is pretty hot this time of year." He grabbed his briefcase. "My condolences."

Woodward exited the room leaving the Lucian Captain still seated, and at once turned the corner and entered the adjoining room, Commander Halter and Agent Pollard still occupying their seats.

"Not as informing as I hoped." Woodward grimaced. "He's loyal, though I expect it's as much fear as true dedication."

"More scared of what his buddies will do to him if he talks than anything we or the Jaffa can come up with." Pollard guessed. "Reminds me of the old Mafia back home, code of silence."

"Think it's worth another try?" Woodward considered.

"I don't think so; he's not going to be reasonable." Halter said. "He just confirms what we already know from his ship's data banks, I doubt he has any further information."

"We could have used him as a double agent, but I doubt he's gonna play ball." Pollard joined in. "He's no more use to us, if there's no objections we'll turn him over to the Jaffa like the rest."

"Fine by me." Halter nodded. "We've got plenty more work to do without worrying about this guy."

"Think the Jaffa will torture him?" Woodward winced.

"Maybe, but it's out of our hands." Pollard shrugged. "He raised a few interesting points about them though, our assets are focused on the Ori right now, we haven't really been watching the Jaffa."

"You believe him?" Halter frowned. "He's got every reason to lie."

"I believe what I know, and right now I don't know one way or another." The CIA man returned. "But I'm interested in finding out, just to be on the safe side."

"They might not take too kindly to us running a few spy missions in their space." Woodward cautioned. "I understand the Jaffa are very honor driven, they could take it as a slight."

"So we'll have to be very good at our job." Pollard grinned. "Besides, if he is right, and we did nothing when we had a tip off… last time that happened we were at war a week later. We can't afford not to."


	17. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**An Unnamed Planet**

It was cold, not in the simple early morning variety but in the North Dakota-in-February way with winds howling down from mountain ridges on the horizon and stirring up the ground. Small tornadoes of snow and ice hugged the ground as the wind moved in its way. A fresh layer of snow layered the land after having fallen during the night and left the landscape a bright and crisp white. It was a dry and powdery snow similar to that the skiers of Colorado and New Hampshire prayed for every winter before taking to the slopes. All in all, the countryside shone as the skies had cleared and the day had blossomed into a cold yet beautifully shiny morning. Icicles hung from tree limbs and even the birds had mostly decided to lay low as the sun rose into the sky. The pine forest, cut as it was by small gullies, streams and paths, was eerily quiet with only the wind providing much in the way of noise.

The silence was broken by the rhythmic clanging of medieval-style armor as a troop of 100 Ori soldiers marched in double columns along a path of crunching snow, pure white except for the long lines of soldiers. Each wore a long woolen overcoat of grey over their traditional uniform and armor that paid no heed to noise discipline. Each carried their staff weapon and maintained a consistent pace as they moved to their latest assignment with a Prior leading at the front of the column. Nothing as pedestrian as snowfall could keep them from their mission on this morning. There were more unbelievers to convert and more heretics to be dealt with. At their encampment the night before, the Prior ministered to them and promised that their toil would not be forgotten, especially as they fought the hordes of evildoers waiting in the wings who went by strange names: _Americans, Langarans, Jaffa, Russians…Who are these people and don't they know what's good for them?_

The rumors had been circulating among the formations, even with the Priors doing their best to stamp it out. There were too many incidents for the stories to simply wither and die like the Priors intended them to. Something was going on and it hadn't been stopped yet, as unstoppable as the rumors that were driven by it. Men were dying and the situation was continuing to get worse. Whole formations of fifty or more men would be found slaughtered to the last. It was whispered that even Priors had been killed by whoever was fighting back. While panic had yet to set in and the incidents had been small in nature, it was getting that much harder among some front-line formations to motivate men to deploy out to continue the work of enforcing Origin, even among the most devout. The Priors had even taken the extraordinary step of isolating certain units to contain the rumors and fear that had spread.

"A question Prior?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Should we not be sending out a small party to scout the way ahead? Would that not be prudent?"

His name was Torac Lennar and in previous years he'd served in the army of the Trevane, a small world of humans that had been converted to Origin following a harsh civil war that had engulfed their planet of 250 million people. Earth had not visited their world and the arrival of the Priors and their ways had been seen as nothing short of salvation to a scarred and weary people. Lennar had been among those who'd welcomed the Priors and had been overjoyed to bring his martial skills to the cause of Origin. His skills had led to his command of these one hundred men. But as a professional soldier, the Priors' utter disregard for tactics and strategy in lieu of blind devotion and imperious conduct had left him shaken. Men's lives were worth more than this.

"My son, these people are but a pebble in a large sea. They are not the type to bring violence to us and it would be tragic if they did, most especially for their souls."

"I am not concerned with these natives Prior, but with these warriors of the Jaffa or the Americans. Those unbelievers are notoriously cunning in their attacks upon our men and I just wish to limit that sort of thing."

"Lennar, those unbelievers are of limited numbers and even more limited means. The Jaffa are a broken and distraught people in need of direction which we'll soon bring."

"Of that I have no doubt Prior. I only wish to see us achieve our mission with the least amount of blood spilled by your devoted men."

"Take heart and trust in Origin and the Ori, my son. We will continue as always. The resistance of the unbelievers is small and will be of no consequence to the result."

The Ori force moved at a solid clip as they headed to their next objective, a small of village of no more than 300 souls five miles down stream that had not yet been visited with the good word of the Ori's salvation. This particular village had managed to avoid entanglements over the years with just about everyone including the Goa'uld as it was on a non-descript world devoid of anything remotely interesting to the powers-that-be. The Ori soldiers expected little physical resistance from the natives, especially in the hostile winter conditions. Long puffs of steam emanated from their breath as they moved along the path with sloping, wooded ridges on either side. There was little talking as most simply kept thoughts to themselves and focused on the march at hand with an unspoken sense of resignation to the task at hand.

They would not have been so focused and resigned had they known who was watching from above with impunity. High above the small formation a tool in the SGC's arsenal did its quiet but appreciated work work. The RQ-11A Raven Unmanned Aerial Vehicle or UAV orbited over the group and quietly sent a streaming video feed to its masters nearby. A small craft, at 4 feet, 3 inches of wingspan it was no larger than many of the more expensive model airplanes, its remote camera was its only weapon and a dagger at that. On this day, it was doing its job to perfection. The intelligence sergeant operating it was fighting the winter wind to keep the formation under close observation as its small propeller cut through the cold air. Others were watching also.

"I'd love to know what they're talking about. Can't be fantasy football, can it?"

"No sir. Probably not talking about the SEC either. I doubt they're Tennessee fans."

"You're recording all of this, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. So what's this tell us?"

"Well sir, they apparently haven't learned their lesson yet, or they're willfully ignoring it. 100 strong; simple column of march with a Prior leading the way. No sign of an advanced patrol, skirmishers or any other security. Plus, no sign of heavy weapons, motorized or mechanized vehicles. Amateur hour continues."

"Maybe. From this view, they're not paying attention to the terrain either. Look at 'em march right into that culvert." Terry McNulty crossed his arms over his winter camouflage and equipment and looked down at the wooden floor of the native home set up as the Ranger's temporary command post. A warm fire crackled in the hearth. "I wonder how much the Priors are forcing on these guys. There have to be some former military guys in their service, yet we still see things like this. Any thoughts people?"

A Ranger captain piped up. "Maybe we've underestimated how much their basic infantry have been coerced into service, at least for some of them. We know from our interrogations of that last prisoner that he wasn't wholeheartedly attached to the greater Ori crusade. I wouldn't be surprised if the more competent ones are being purged, kinda like the Soviet army in the 30's. After all, competent ones tend to ask questions."

"Fair point."

"We have no evidence to support that proposition and that doesn't explain why they continue to use bad tactics. One prisoner isn't a trend; Afghanistan taught us that." Another captain stepped up. "Remember, the tactics they've used so far, basically large-scale psychological terrorism of uneducated populations, has worked for them. I think that suggests that so far, we're not as much of a factor as we may like to think we are. We're killing fifty or a hundred at a clip while they're massing armies most likely in the millions. To their thinking, they don't need tactics; they've got a badass fleet to back them up. It's intellectual laziness and an abhorrent disregard for your troop's welfare but they've got bodies to burn. Stalin thought the same thing."

"As a wise man once said: We're killing retail, they're dealing wholesale."

McNulty looked around the small, cold shack and ended the debate. "No matter what, there's a lot we still don't know and still need to learn, except that we've got these guys coming in and they apparently don't know we're here. What's their current ETA?"

"At their rate of march, they'll hit our ambush area in about 35 minutes."

"Any indications that this force is a ruse; something to draw us out?"

"No sir. I've had the drone overfly a large area and there's been no other activity, Ori or otherwise. _Odyssey_ reports no contacts in the air. "

"Okay. Well, we'll stick to the plan. They're not getting near this village." McNulty activated his tactical mike. "All units, Ranger Six Actual, hostile troops inbound. Count at one zero zero. ETA, three five mikes. Maintain position and report any activity."

As acknowledgements came over the radio net McNulty watched the video picture of the approaching formation and wondered if the Mohawks felt the same, watching British columns leaving Albany for the frontier of upstate New York in the 1750's, wedded to outmoded tactics totally unsuited to fighting in the North American wilderness. British General Edward Braddock had marched into the Old Northwest to capture Fort Duquesne with a young George Washington in tow only to see his force devastated and himself die on a wagon trail. McNulty knew one thing from history that was certain: when old tactics met new weapons, the new weapons usually won. Decisively. The lesson had been repeated on Earth over the eons. The slaughter of massed formations of infantry at Antietam and Gettysburg had taught Americans that the age of Napoleonic tactics were over. More Americans died in one day at Antietam, Maryland than would die in any other single day in US history. The armies of Europe had learned the same lessons during the meat grinder that was 1914-1915. Eventually every military learned the lessons of technological advances and McNulty was certain that at some point in the not-too-distant future, the Ori would have their Antietam moment.

He just hoped their enlightenment would wait a little longer.

The entire operation had been thrown together with rapid speed. It had taken some effort but eventually Army and Air Force interrogators had managed to get captured Ori foot soldiers to talk, if not sing soprano as they joked. With time being critical, the first questions had revolved around upcoming operations and what little operational matters the soldiers were aware of. The unnamed planet the Rangers found themselves on was just such a mission that the prisoners had been privy to. It wasn't a lot, but to McNulty, anything he could get at this point was useful. They couldn't save every little village but they could help a few.

What they needed were more sources of intelligence into the Ori's planning but no one at the IOA or the SGC was holding their breath awaiting the Golden Goose. When McNulty had briefed Jack O'Neill and his staff on his plans for the mission, whose number one goal was more prisoners, O'Neill's eyes glazed and he chuckled, "Yeah, good luck with that." O'Neill, for all his years of listening and sometimes agreeing with Daniel Jackson's impassioned zeal for compassion and diplomacy, had come to a rather stark conclusion. The more Ori soldiers that the nations of Earth and her allies killed on remote worlds, the fewer they might have to face at the vanguard of an Ori fleet attacking Earth. It was numbers, pure and simple. Kill them now or kill them later. Jackson would not be amused by the calculation.

Ultimately, McNulty and his superiors knew that Daniel Jackson and others were right about one thing: they wouldn't be able to kill their way out of the Ori threat. Like Afghanistan or any other hot spot, it would take diplomacy, but that wouldn't stop them from trying.

As for the Prior, well, he had plans for him.

It was a simple ambush in concept, if you took for granted that the enemy force was led by a mystical shaman with untold powers and that it was all happening on an alien planet. Alpha Company was set up on three sides of a large gully that was carved through the middle by the trail. All sides were heavily forested, mainly with pine trees, similar, if not the same as those on Earth. The Rangers were dug in, with heavy machine guns and Mk. 19 grenade launchers trained onto the clear field of fire, which had been sewed with numerous claymore mines. Added to this impressive amount of firepower were snipers armed with .50 caliber anti-personnel rifles dispersed throughout.

McNulty's biggest weapons were out of sight however. Alpha Company's weapons platoon had set up their three 60MM mortars near the target village and had the entire gully pre-sighted, ensuring that a call for indirect fire would be rapid. His fire control center was in the next village hut over and fully stood up. The bewildered villagers, only too happy for the timely assistance, had looked on with bemused confusion, having never seen such technology before. The same reaction was magnified when the first HMMV had rolled into the village, like a large and loud metal chariot. Villagers used to primitive farming and village life were left in shock at the appearance of massive wheeled 'beasts' as they called them.

His biggest weapon however, was the one jokingly called 'Carter's Prior Pisser'. Carter's hastily devised Prior immobilizer was the one thing that could keep this particular prior from using his 'skills', such as they were, against McNulty's force. McNulty had no intention of losing a man to what he derisively described as the Priors' 'Moses' Act'. Carter's invention was secreted along the trail at the ambush site awaiting activation.

McNulty's attention was drawn to his radio.

"_Ranger Six, enemy force 15 minutes out."_

"Copy, all units hold position and wait for further orders." McNulty looked around the small cabin. "Alright gentlemen, let's get this going."

"Prior, another question?"

"Yes my son?"

"Why do you believe some resist so? Are they driven by another, more sinister force to resist the will of the Ori? Or are they fighting of their own accord?"

The Prior maintained a look of strict yet serene calmness. "Who is to say what drives lesser men? Is it greed? A refusal to recognize what is good for them? It can be difficult to divine the hearts of the misguided, even those we try to save. Ultimately, their misgivings are irrelevant and will fall away. They will be purified in the light of an Ori day or they will be purged. Only the when is unsettled."

"Of that I have no doubt, I only marvel at their resistance to divine truth."

"It shows how much work we truly have ahead of us my son. The old orders must be swept away to create that which is needed for the greater glory. A new day is coming…" The Prior stopped suddenly and without warning, causing the column to do the same, creating a comical crashing of soldiers.

"What is it Prior?"

"A feeling my son. A disturbance in the force of things." The Prior looked around like a deer searching for the sudden threat. "Deploy your men."

At the TOC, McNulty watched the screen and played his hand. "All units, commence firing by fire plan! Activate the immobilizer."

Behind his position, the mortar platoon kicked into to gear, rapidly feeding rounds into the tubes to get as much explosive on target while the Ori were massed in the kill zone.

The three sides of the culvert exploded in a crescendo of automatic weapons fire as the Rangers took advantage of their higher position to tear into the column of soldiers. Lennar, thrown off by the immediacy of the violence, reacted swiftly to the assault as men fell around him.

"React to ambush! Attack it by squad!"

Just as he began directing his men, the first of the 60MM rounds impacted into the formation. A small cluster of ten men, slow to react, were blown apart by the impact of a high explosive round that was lucky enough to find the center of their grouping. Arms, legs and torsos flew in contorted flights as the force of the explosives took hold. Snow, dirt and debris flew in the air as the withering fire tore into the landscape.

"Spread out and return fire!" Lennar's words were overwhelmed by the ferocity of the Ranger ambush. To his right, he watched as one of his subordinates was torn apart by automatic weapons fire.

On the ridge, Captain Curtis Miller watched as the planned ambush caught the Ori force flat-footed.

"Keep pouring it into them! Watch that group to our two o'clock!" A small group of Ori soldiers moved in a valiant attempt to flank the ambush. Behind Miller, a Ranger swung a HMMV-mounted .50 caliber machine gun towards the group. The large caliber rounds tore into the men as torsos were gouged in two and heads exploded into tiny stumps. Trees and saplings exploded into fragments as hundreds of rounds tore through the area.

The Prior, thrown off by the sudden removal of his powers, was struck by a well-aimed sniper round in the right shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. He watched helplessly as more of his men were cut down in the ruthlessly effective ambush. A Ranger on the hillside was decapitated by a well-aimed shot from an Ori weapon. Several Ori soldiers attempted a full scale charge and were torn down by 7.62MM machine gun fire. Slowly, the amount of explosions and screaming ebbed as the Rangers ran out of targets.

"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!"

Torac Lennar winced in pain, the result of a gun shot wound to his right thigh. As he lay in the culvert he looked around at the carnage arrayed in the area. His men, who he'd been steadily training for months, were either dead or severely wounded. Blood and gore seemed to be everywhere. The screams of agonized pain could be heard as they tried to drag themselves to safety. Soon enough, he heard the approach of their tormentors, the men in green uniforms who had been their bane.

Two of the nameless warriors approached with their projectile weapons pointed at him.

"Drop your weapon and lay on your stomach! NOW!"

Lennar did as he was told, knowing full well that this battle was over. He had his arms tied roughly behind his back and a blindfold turned his world black. A few feet away, the Prior lay on his back trying to control the bleeding wound that was his shoulder. He looked up to see one of the nameless unbelievers, his face blackened, looking down at his prostrate form. The man was young, no more than 30 years, and he made no attempt to hide his disgust at the Prior's very existence.

"You will all suffer for this effrontery. You dare to attack the soldiers of the holy ones? Death is now your future and hope is now your enemy. Know that unbeliever!"

Captain Miller looked down at the Prior, kicked away his staff and smirked. "You know, holy man, I could quote some deep and esoteric philosopher or some Shakespeare in response. Something about how you'll never break the spirit of a free people and all of that. But instead I'll keep it simple for you: Fuck you."

"Your day is near unbeliever! You will-"

"Just shut the fuck up! You're giving me a headache. Someone tie this asshole up please?"

**Stargate Command**

Hank Landry, in his typical self-effacing manner, liked to joke with his Air Force colleagues, at least those with both the clearance and the knowledge of the SGC and its mission, that his job was actually pretty simple. "As a matter of fact," he said on many occasions, "it's setting me up for my retirement job… as a Wal-Mart greeter." Hardly a day went by when he didn't find himself in his Class A's in the embarkation room awaiting the arrival of some official party or visiting diplomat. As much as he knew this part of his job to be important, it did have a tendency to get slightly old. What did keep it interesting was the sheer diversity of life that came through Earth's gate, whether for normal diplomacy or in first contact situations. When he'd first started, he thought the entirety of it would overwhelm him; some days that feeling crept back covertly. Luckily he had a big staff, especially now that the IOA was involved in the operation, or sticking their noses where they didn't belong, depending on whom you asked. No longer was it the uniformed military calling all the day to day shots but State Department diplomats, foreign governments and various intelligence agencies had their hands on the wheel of the massive vehicle known as the SGC.

As it was, Landry no longer attended to every arrival, even those of alien governments. It would tie up far too much of his time and wasn't really needed anymore. There were others, both military and civilian, who dealt with the majority of the routine traffic. He would make exceptions however, usually for VIP's but also for other important issues. Developing allies was one of those issues that Landry was pursuing with vigor, especially with Jack O'Neill and a lot of other superiors urging him on. On this day he found himself, along with Colonel's Sullivan and Paschendale from 10th Group, awaiting their important visitors. Soon enough the gate disgorged four new visitors, three of them in uniform.

"Welcome to Earth. I'm Major General Hank Landry of the United States Air Force."

A tall, lanky half-human, half-Serrakin military officer saluted in a manner similar to the US military fashion. "Thank you General. I'm First Commander Tondar Bernardis of the Hebridian Federal Army."

Handshakes and further introductions were made and the group was led through the ubiquitous blast doors and into the SGC's typical grey concrete hallways with piping near the ceiling. As with all first time visitors to the mountain, the Hebridian officers tried their best to take in the sights and sounds of their visit to a fellow human military facility, as if wanting to see how the distant cousins lived.

"I see our respective militaries use the same supplier of grey paint."

Landry cracked a wide smile. "I think there's something in the human genome that directs us to make our military facilities as drab as possible."

"Yes, we apparently are not alone in boring people to death."

The entire party chuckled at the grain of truth that each knew firsthand. Finally, the group made its way into a secure intelligence conference room and everyone took their seats. Discussions ensued as each group got to know one another. The typical process began like it always did, with two cultures getting a feel for one another.

"So, this is called _coffee_?"

"Yeah, it's made from ground beans of the native plant. One of its traits is that contains amounts of a natural stimulant called caffeine. Helps to keep you going during a long day. Various cultures here on Earth have their own versions of it."

"Interesting. We have something similar that we showed to your military attaché, Colonel Hendry, at our capital. Tastes rather strong but I like it."

"Many people practically live on this stuff, especially when you're working late."

"It seems there are many doing that at these times General. Colonel Hendry also asked me to remind you that you owe him, I believe he said twenty _bucks_, for the _'Super Bowl'_?"

"Colonel Hendry and I made a little wager of currency on a large sporting event, akin to your Loop of Kon Garat.

"Ah, I see. I've lost money that way in the past."

Soon enough, the meeting turned to business with the lone Hebridian civilian speaking up. His name was Nodar Histalli and he was a member of the highly secretive Directorate of Intelligence & Security or DIS, the Hebridian version of Earth's CIA or MI-6 with some FBI and Secret Service thrown in. Known for their ability to cultivate foreign sources even in the most challenging locations, they had honed their abilities through years of surveillance of the Goa'uld as well as other powers. Unknown to the SGC, the DIS had debated whether to attempt an intelligence mission on Earth but had been held off for now by their elected officials, who wished to cultivate good relations with the burgeoning Earth governments. The CIA had already had low level contacts with DIS and the two agencies had found that they could work together rather well, so well that the head of DIS was scheduled to meet with the CIA Director in the coming months.

Histalli had spent years running 'black' intelligence-gathering operations directed at learning the intentions of various System Lords before the collapse of their dominion. In some ways, he was both envious and bewildered by the near rapid success of the governments of Earth in destabilizing the Goa'uld. He also shared many Earthers' wariness at the new Free Jaffa regime and its goals. While he publically wished the government on Dakara the best, privately there was too much water under the bridge for him to be entirely comfortable with them. Too many sources tortured or killed and too many run-ins had done that to him.

"The information your government provided to us has disturbed many of our leaders as you might imagine. We had been looking somewhat at the Alliance's activities but apparently not enough, a mistake we will rectify. We did not believe them to be so foolish as to directly challenge established powers such as ourselves or the Tau'ri."

Landry sympathized with Histalli's observations. "We had a similar experience. At first we thought of them as nothing more than a rogue criminal enterprise, not unlike many others in the universe. As you see, we've changed our thinking. The President is quite rightly concerned and has directed us to come up with ways of dealing effectively with the Alliance's provocations. Our International Oversight Advisory, made up of the participating nations, is on board with this effort as well. We were hoping that our governments could coordinate our efforts in this regard."

Histalli looked over at Commander Bernardis, who was nodding. "Our government shares the same desire General. We've been authorized to develop plans in consultation with your military and intelligence agencies to combat this problem."

Sullivan was intrigued. "Have you been authorized to take direct action against Alliance targets?"

"We've been instructed to develop plans with you for that sort of scenario. Our leaders wish to imprint their displeasure with these criminals…forcefully. Obviously, approval of military action lies with our leaders but they are inclined to act. I understand your navy is scheduled to visit our Fleet Command soon to discuss the issue. Piracy is a problem we deal with swiftly as our economy is heavily based in shipping and trade. Our leaders know this and don't like interruptions in it as you can guess. They were pleased to hear from your ambassador about the three Al'kesh your navy dealt with. Have your prisoners talked?"

"The captain of the captured vessel confirmed the intelligence regarding the mercenaries and their deployment. Take a look for yourself." With that, Sullivan used a remote to bring up a video on the plasma television mounted on the wall. For five minutes the assembled group watched as Haran was interviewed by Commander Woodward, all of it leading to him admitting the insertion of mercenaries on Earth. "He stopped cooperating after that."

"Your interrogator is very good. What methods of interrogation have you used?"

"Our interrogators have used various psychological methods. Sympathy, persuasion; all the usual. We've held the Jaffa threat over his head. He knows we could ship him to Dakara at any time to be prosecuted. And he knows how that would turn out."

Histalli seemed slightly surprised. "You have not used physical coercion?"

Landry looked at Histalli with some surprise. He didn't think of the Hebridians as the type to use torture and he certainly wasn't going to get the SGC caught up in that racket. It never worked anyway. "We're bound by international law and our own standards not to use physical torture. We'll use some methods such as sleep deprivation and other enhanced techniques, but not physical abuse."

"Good." That comment caught the SGC contingent off guard. "We were hoping that was the case. It is proscribed by our laws as well. Although we both know the Jaffa see it differently."

"Well, that's for the Jaffa to live with. And I know that there are many who disagree with their stated policy on prisoners. Our relations with the Jaffa government are growing as we hope they will develop into a full partner in this region of the universe."

"Our government has a complicated view of the regime on Dakara. We spent many years and many resources on trying to blunt and contain their former masters, whom are certainly not missed. We're trying to keep an open mind but our policies towards them are still developing. The rapid demise of the System Lords, especially through the auspices of your governments as well as the Asgard and Tok'ra, has leaped ahead of the elected officials."

"We can sympathize. We had such a situation here on Earth twenty years ago with the rapid decline of a non-democratic state called the Soviet Union. Its demise caught many unprepared, especially our government."

"Yes, Colonel Hendry loaned us some books and articles discussing that part of your world's history. The parallels are striking. Our concern is that many on Dakara, including those in leadership, are a little too nostalgic for the heady days of conquest and battle. Too many former Jaffa are ending up in the wrong places doing the wrong things. I don't like a bored Jaffa; they tend to look for something to break."

Landry took in Histalli's observation and carefully weighed his response. Officially, the United States was a proud friend and ally to the Free Jaffa government. There were many good men and women among their ranks that he'd grown to like. He understood the concerns, but the Jaffa bashing wasn't getting them anywhere.

"I understand, but I still believe that their steps into the democratic process will work. We, along with others, are investing a lot of time and effort into it. A bored Jaffa may break something, but an engaged Jaffa can build something lasting."

"You're an optimist general, a trait I need to cultivate when it comes to the Jaffa."

"I'd say I'm more of a pragmatist. We have a saying from a former president named Ronald Reagan, _'Trust but verify'._ I like and respect them, as I believe most of them do us, but I also know to walk carefully."

"A wise course."

"Now the Ori on the other hand…" Landry watched as a distinctly pinched look came over the visitors.

"A difficult subject general."

"Really? I would think that marauding armies of religious fanatics bent on subjugation and conquest would be pretty straightforward."

"Normally yes." Histalli looked over at Bernardis, who looked just as hesitant. "You must understand General; many of our superiors believe this to be nothing more than a religious movement that will slow with time. They are not interested in a conflict that would be bad for business."

"Well, I would think getting conquered and subjugated would also be bad for business."

"Yes, but my government does not think it is at that level yet."

"Is that your opinion as well sir?"

"General, my opinions do not matter, only those of our leaders. They lay out the policy that we are charged with carrying out. I know this to be true in your country as well."

"Yes it is. But we're also charged with providing an unvarnished opinion of circumstances based on our experience and training. Is it not the same with you?"

"You have us there General."

"Would your government at least be open to seeing the intelligence and the evidence we've amassed as to Ori intentions? That's all I'm asking for."

Histalli leaned back in his seat, one hand touching his clean-shaven chin. "I can arrange for your people to brief our senior military and intelligence officials. That's all I can promise however. The politicians will be a tougher issue."

Landry chuckled. "They always are sir. They always are."


	18. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: A very special thanks to the always outstanding Lightning Count for contributing a scene to this chapter. Secondly, it was previously pointed out that I'd used an incorrect first name for Major Lorne. That has since been corrected._

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Beta Site**

**Secure IOA Facility**

**Address Classified**

The first two souls through the gate barely registered the transition; they might as well have been stepping out of a car or walking through a front door. It was still an extraordinary experience, even after countless hundreds of excursions through this heavenly portal but at the same time it was familiar, expected, and almost routine if such a thing could ever be called normal. To them it was a means to an end, though for some of their companions it was something else.

"That's still going to take some getting used to." Colonel Paul Fitzgerald exhaled, swiftly checking behind him.

"Forgot something Colonel?" Sam Carter raised a slightly amused eyebrow.

"Just making sure I brought both arms and legs with me." He beamed back, clearly energized by the experience. It was his third trip through the gate which meant while the initial fear had worn off the novelty was still there in full force. Of the seven people to come through the gate only Sam Carter and Daniel Jackson remained unmoved, for the others it was mind blowing.

A week ago this sort of thing happened on TV, on cheap budget knock down TV shows that were played for laughs like the infamous Wormhole X-treme, a show so appalling it had a cult of its own, even among the professionals of the US Army. Fitzgerald took a little bit of guilty pride in his familiarity with such shows, as a kid he had been a big Sci-Fi fan and had been convinced that by the time he grew up he'd be commanding the Starship Enterprise or hanging around with a Wookie best friend. As he got older his priorities had changed, and instead of guiding a fictional starship he dedicated himself to guiding real life men and women of the armed forces.

His childhood of fantasy had given him a strong sense of reality in adulthood, he deliberately picked the Army to keep his feet firmly on the ground and used his natural insightfulness to quickly separate fact from supposition and rapidly develop a plan for every situation. His flexibility and ability to make snap decisions saw him rise quickly through the ranks making major at 32 with the Fourth Infantry Division.

His defining trial had come in Iraq when the 4th had been thrown into heavy fighting in the north of the country, traditionally a heartland of Ba'athists. During the initial push into Tikrit, hometown of Saddam himself, Fitzgerald's unit came under an intense counter attack as Iraqi government forces and militia tried to force the US troops off their sacred ground. The immensely brutal fight saw Fitzgerald assume command of a company scale unit and rather than dig in and weather the storm actively push back, engaging in brutal house to house fighting and completely unbalancing the Iraqis with the unexpected ferocity of his attacks. His expert deployments deceived the Iraqis into thinking his ad hoc company was a much stronger force, and the inspired courage of his men only added to that belief. Fitzgerald successfully tied up the majority of the Iraqi elite over the day long fight, letting other units seize the city with far less than expected casualties.

When Fitzgerald's unit was rotated out his men had barely ten rounds of ammunition left between them.

The unit was given an appropriate citation and Fitzgerald singled out for immediate promotion. Unfortunately while there was no obstacle to giving him a lieutenant colonelcy there were also no vacancies in front line units. Rather than wait for a battalion command to open up Fitzgerald was offered a sideways transfer to intelligence, just a temporary assignment he was told, a way to claim his rank and try something different until a combat command showed up. Unfortunately Fitzgerald became a victim of his own success.

He had a knack for spotting lies, for cutting through the bluster and picking out relevant facts. To Fitzgerald everything was a confession, every blink, every breath, and every bead of sweat that ran down an arm. It all told him something, he didn't even need to ask questions, just wait and let time and guilt do the hard work for him. He was a superlative interrogator and as he established an admirable record in the Sunni Triangle his superiors became reluctant to let him go. To them a good intel officer was worth more than a good battalion commander, and so when a vacancy did finally arrive it was given to another officer. The promotion to full bird colonel barely made up for it.

Never the less he accepted that he had a job to do, one he was exceptionally qualified for, and he took to his new appointment with vigor and passion. He became satisfied with the life he had chosen until one day an Air Force general had introduced himself as Jack O'Neill and told him all that stuff on TV was in fact real, and asked if Fitzgerald wanted to be a part of it. His answer had taken a heartbeat to decide.

His superiors had been reluctant to let him go on temporary duty to NORAD and whatever the Air Force had cooking under Cheyenne. It was wrapped in so much secrecy not even the top brass in Iraq knew what his assignment would be, a fact that encouraged him to accept even more.

He had no idea why he was here on an alien world, but he could guess. They wanted his insight as an interrogator and observer of behavior. He had a bigger mission though. His new job would be as Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence for the Fourth. As the divisional G-2, his sole mission would be prepping the men and woman of the division for the new universe they'd be operating in.

The other five men with him were also taken aback by the experience, they hid it well but Fitzgerald could read their body language like a cheap newspaper. He had been joined by a fellow Army officer named Everett Casey whom he had served with for the past six months as part of 4th ID. As a Major attached to G-2, Divisional Intelligence, Casey had often helped Fitzgerald prepare for interrogations, his specialty being signals intelligence and decryption. Casey had provided decoded communications which Fitzgerald had then used to bluff his prisoners into revealing all they knew, and together they made an effective team.

Casey was also a sci-fi fan but for him it was still a current fascination and part of the reason why he had joined signals intelligence. He had a strong mathematical mind and was adept at finding patterns in the most convoluted of chaos. Fitzgerald had been showing him how to apply those ideas to gathering human intelligence, but he still had a way to go yet. He guessed Casey was here for his familiarity with signals technology and linguistics, but as far as Casey himself was concerned travelling to another world was like a dream come true.

The third man was much more guarded; he didn't wear a uniform instead dressing semi-casually in slacks and a sweater. He could have been plucked from a catalogue shoot or a weekend break, but his choice of clothing was far from accidental. His name was Jeff Jenkins and his homely manner was carefully constructed to be entirely unthreatening. He smiled a lot, he had the complexion of a man who enjoyed being outdoors and when he spoke it was in easy rich tones, almost like a lullaby. He also happened to be one of the finest criminal psychologists on the planet and a five times published author of psychiatric text books. He had made his living consulting law enforcement in particularly delicate cases, but after 9/11 had dedicated himself to helping combat the threat of international terrorism.

Jenkins had become a hugely successful cracker of the terrorist mind, breaking suspects not with intimidation but with kindness, giving them the exact opposite treatment detainees had expected. He had foiled several terror plots and was nominally an Agent for the CIA. He was probably the best at keeping his wits about him, accepting the revelation about aliens for what it was, a necessary secret to prevent panic.

The final two new arrivals were back in uniform, the dull khaki of British Number Two dress and the slightly paler hues of the French Army. Major Nick Sheldon seemed to have followed Fitzgerald's line of thought, immediately turning after arrival to see if his uniform was damaged in any way by the travel. His cap bore the rose and wreath of Army Intelligence and his chest held several campaign medals showing he was no stranger to frontline service. His latest assignment had been to the Defence Intelligence Staff, the main coordinated agency that gathered and analyzed data brought in from the various military and security services of the UK.

His French Colleague was Colonel Pierre Herbert, a senior member of the Direction du Renseignement Militaire which served a similar overarching role to the British DIS or American DIA. Herbert was well known both in both French and European Intelligence communities for his skill in using a wide variety of intelligence data to build a complete picture of a given threat. In the past he had used a mix of imagery, radio intercepts and a simple cigarette packet to break into an Algerian terror cell and bring down a plot to release sarin gas into the Paris Metro. When the IOA had asked France to contribute someone to the fledgling IOA intelligence community there was no better choice.

All five had adjusted pretty quickly given the circumstances, accepting the revelations of gate travel and the fact humanity was at war beyond its own solar system. The pressing need for an understanding of the enemies Earth now faced dominated their respective minds to the point where the wonder of this new world was largely consumed by the desire to do what they had to do and use their long practiced skills against this alien foe.

"Here it is, the Beta Site." Colonel Carter announced as the gate shut down, the scattering of light vanishing to be replaced by standard neon tubes overhead. "Doesn't look like much, but trust me, this is a whole new world."

"Which looks a lot like Vancouver." Jackson added. "One of those things."

The blast doors to the concrete gate room cranked open depositing a tough looking man, dressed in the short sleeve tan shirt and crisp blue trousers of the US Marines with close cropped air and the sort of build most associated with lumberjacks. He made straight for the team, nodding to Sam.

"Welcome back Colonel Carter, this everyone?"

"Yes sir." Sam replied. "The IOA Intelligence Community picked these people from across the globe, they're experts in their chosen fields and fully briefed on the current galactic situation."

"Very good." The broad man confirmed, turning to address the arrivals. "I am Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon, United States Marine Corps. I run the J-2 shop for Stargate Command and for the time being I'll be running the IOA Intelligence Committee until we find someone permanent with stars on their shoulder. You are here to conduct an interrogation of two prisoners, one a company-grade level commander of the Ori army, and one Prior of Origin."

That generated a few glances among the new arrivals. They had read the dossiers compiled by Stargate Command on the Priors, a litany of superhuman feats and incredibly powers witnessed first hand by people like Doctor Jackson. To have one in the facility was electrifying.

"The Prior is contained using Colonel Carter's immobilizer, but if you'll come with me we already have the rest of our team prepared." Glyndon informed. "These are the two most valuable intelligence sources we have right now. I don't need to tell you exactly how crucial your expertise is here, and the stakes we're playing for."

They left the gate room and headed through the concrete underground of the base, its standard layout reflecting the facilities beneath Cheyenne Mountain. It was less busy than usual; many of the non essential personnel deployed here had been relocated while the interrogations took place as a security measure. The IOA was taking no chances.

"Both prisoners arrived about seven hours ago." Glyndon related as he lead them through the base. "They both had gunshot wounds which have been treated and they've both been fed. So far that's about it."

"Any indication this could be a trap?" Jackson asked. "Like an albino Trojan Horse?"

"We ran our guests through Tok'ra sensors and a good old fashioned CAT scan." The Marine answered. "Both came up clean. Doctor Felgar is taking apart the Prior's staff in the labs, he asked for you Colonel Carter when you're done with the interrogation."

"Got it Colonel." She nodded her blond head.

"We're going to split into two teams, one for the company commander and one for the Prior." Glyndon said. "Colonel Herbert, Major Sheldon, Major Casey, Mr. Jenkins, you'll be in Room Three with Colonel McNulty. Dr Jackson, Colonel Carter, Colonel Fitzgerald, you'll be with me in Room One."

They entered the detention wing, the increased guard detail checking their clearance and identity thoroughly with a mix of human and alien techniques, then cleared them through.

"We'll have video links between each team if you need them." Colonel Glyndon mentioned. "You people are the best and we need the best. If we lose these sources or turn them against us it could cost countless lives. Do what you do gentlemen, Colonel Carter, and give us something to work with."

The two teams split and headed for their respective rooms. Both interrogation rooms were the same, a plain concrete box with a table and chairs in the centre overlooked by a wide two way mirror. Behind those mirrors sat recording devices and a panel of experts pouring over every comment and inflection. The level of tension was extreme, everyone was on edge with a Prior merely yards away.

Glyndon opened the door to the observation room, the dim light preserving the illusion of opacity in the two way mirror. The room was already occupied by CIA Agent Pollard, the senior interrogator in the SGC and the familiar smooth head of Richard Woolsey. Less familiar was a mustached Air Force Colonel in his short-sleeve blues, all of them utterly focused on the pale faced male sitting unmoving on the other side of the glass.

"Glad you could make it." Woolsey chided. "I swear he can see us behind this mirror."

"Unlikely Mr. Woolsey." The Air Force Colonel shook his head. "With his powers disabled he's just one of us."

"Colonel Edward Albee, DIA." Glyndon introduced. "He'll be sitting in on the interrogation and directing any specific military questions he can."

The new arrivals shook hands.

"I'll also be in there." Agent Pollard confirmed. "But one of the first lessons I was taught in the Agency was a good interrogator needs to know his subject. He has to understand the culture, the meaning, the history. Now I've read up on those things, but the bottom line is I'm not the expert on the Ori." He looked at Jackson. "You are."

"Well…err…"

"I want you to take the lead Doctor Jackson, establish a dialogue." Pollard said. "Once he's talking Colonel Albee and I will contribute questions but we need to get our foot in the door first, we need him to engage, and you Doctor Jackson are our best shot at that."

He looked through the mirror, the Prior turning his head to the reflective glass, staring right at him.

"You sure he can't see in here?" Woolsey asked again.

"We're sure." Pollard confirmed. "Are you ready for this Doctor Jackson?"

Very slowly he nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the Prior.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Across the hall Colonel Herbert opened the door to the second observation room.

"Knock knock?" he declared. "Colonel McNulty?"

"Right here, come on in." McNulty gestured. "Terry McNulty, Seventh Rangers."

They made the quick round of introductions, establishing their identities and credentials before looking at their quarry. The prisoner was sat alone in the room with a cloth bag over his head, generally quite still but with occasional twitches.

"There's our man." McNulty informed. "My guys grabbed him fourteen hours ago out of an ambush. We wiped out his company and wounded him but he remained remarkably calm, my gut tells me he knows his business."

"Professional soldier?" Sheldon asked.

"I'd say yes." Jenkins offered. "The position of the shoulders, arch of the back, he's sat at attention. Many cultures use the same physical principle of standing straight to show discipline and a lack of fear, to invite confrontation. Our source isn't confrontational, but his body is preparing itself for stress. He's scared, but he's ready for anything we throw at him."

"When we caught him he was the only one trying to react to the ambush, to organize a break out." McNulty confirmed. "Same thing we would have done, wherever he came from it wasn't some back water hellhole and I'm positive he didn't pick up military sense from the fucking Ori."

"That's common ground." Jenkins noted. "We'll start there."

"We know his name is Torac Lennar but he shut down after that, hasn't said a word since." McNulty spoke. "We've moved him around a bit, kept that bag on his head to deny him basic sensory input and heighten his confusion, I think we're ready."

"Who's handling the interrogation?" Herbert asked.

"One of my people, Captain Tomasselli, he's got a unique insight which should help." The Ranger answered. "And I figure Mr. Jenkins should go in too, we want to show him we're not against him."

"I think that's a good approach." Jenkins agreed. "The Prior will be extremely hostile to questioning, but I think Lennar here will be more forthcoming when we calm him down. When should I start?"

McNulty grinned. "No time like the present."

Daniel Jackson stood in the hallway for a long moment, exhaling a long breath in the cool air, resting his hand on the rough, cold wall.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked him quietly. "Are you ready to face another Prior?"

"I'll be fine." He smiled for his friend. "Don't worry about it Sam, I just need a good opening angle."

"I know what you must have felt in the past, with the Ori, when you and Vala…"

"Yes, well, it's all knowledge, all ammunition." Jackson stood straight. "All things I can use to break this guy down."

She rested a caring hand on his shoulder. "Don't let him get to you."

"I won't."

Agent Pollard and Colonel Albee arrived from the observation room, gathering beside Daniel.

"I'll be watching." Sam assured. "Good luck."

She returned to the room and closed the door behind her, standing in the dark.

"You're positive he can't hurt us?" Woolsey asked for the twentieth time.

"Positive, there are four inhibitors all working." Carter related.

"And if they fail?"

"If they fail…" Colonel Glyndon hauled an automatic shotgun up from the floor, landing it on a desk with a clunk. "Then that glass isn't bullet proof."

Carter's breath caught as the door to the chamber opened.

"I hope we're doing the right thing."

The Prior made no movement; he didn't turn his head as the three men entered the room and walked around to sit in front of him. Pollard and Jackson drew up chairs at the opposite side of the plain desk opposite the Prior while Albee propped himself up in a corner of the room watching. The Prior himself had been stripped of his robes and given basic issue orange prisoner garments, his hands cuffed together along with his ankles. He showed absolutely no concern, regarding the new arrivals with mild amusement.

"I don't think you've been officially welcomed yet." Jackson began nonchalantly. "How do you like our little facility?"

The Prior said nothing.

"Could use a little paint, little livening up, but it keeps the rain out." Daniel continued. "It's a good shelter, nice, safe, and secure. The sort of place you don't walk out of unless we say you can walk out of it."

The Prior looked at Jackson, but still remained silent.

"The only way you leave this place is by cooperating, by telling us what we want to know, by answering our questions."

There was no response.

"Your one ticket out of here is to help us, do you understand?"

The Prior leaned forward a little, and then opened his mouth.

"I will help you, which is why I am here. I will help you find the truth you seek."

"If your next sentence includes the word 'Origin' at any point I'm going to be very disappointed at your lack of originality."

The Prior broke a smile.

"If you already know what I am going to say, then we might as well stop this game and go our separate ways."

Jackson leaned back in his chair. "Way I see it we spend the next half hour arguing about the Ori, you say hallowed a lot, I say free will a lot, and we just end up wasting time. Then, after we're done posturing, we get down to the real point of this little chat. How about we just go ahead and skip the starter?"

"As you wish."

"Let me ask you this question then." Daniel locked eyes with the Prior. "What's the point?"

"What's the point?"

"What's the point?" Jackson repeated.

"The point of what exactly?"

"You tell me, I mean you are the Prior here, you have all the answers thanks to your enlightenment. So tell me, what's the point?"

"The point of Origin? The point of existence? The point of what?"

"Just tell me what's the point?"

"The point is to serve the Ori, to worship them, and through continued devotion to ascend alongside them in the afterlife."

"Well that's great, but you see there are one or two flaws." Jackson mentioned calmly. "Like, you know, that slight whiff of bullshit"

"This is nothing unexpected; the unbelievers of this galaxy are frequently stubborn in their acceptance of Origin." The Prior sighed. "Your minds are so cluttered, so narrow, you cannot see the great gift I bring you from the Ori."

"Slavery?"

"Freedom my wayward child." The Prior smiled indulgently. "Freedom from worry, from thought, from the uncertainties of existence. Origin shows us all where we stand, banishes the fears of our daily lives and makes us strong. Strong enough to overcome everything in our path."

"Like us?"

"Like you." The Prior smiled wider. "Doctor Daniel Jackson."

In the room beside them Woolsey frowned. "How does he know Doctor Jackson's name?"

"I don't know." Carter said with unease. "I have a bad feeling about this."

The door to Interrogation Room Three opened with a clang and shut almost immediately after, the sound the only thing Lennar had been aware of for what seemed like an eternity. He strained his ears as footsteps approached, then suddenly the world turned white as the bag was snatched from his head and tossed aside. It took a few moments of blinking for his eyes to adjust, time for two men to sit down opposite him.

"How are you?" A voice asked. "Can I get you food? Water?"

Lennar looked up to his two new companions, an older man in simple clothing and a man in his thirties wearing an obvious military uniform. The uniformed man had olive skin and dark full eyebrows sitting above two almost black eyes that observed Lennar with great depth and reason. Both men had easy body language and did not act threatening, but Lennar wasn't ready to take that for granted.

"Do you need anything?" The plain clothed man asked.

Slowly he nodded. "Water."

The plain dressed man stood and left the room, leaving him with the soldier.

"Torac Lennar? That is your name?"

"It is."

"My name is Anthony Tomasselli; I'm a captain in the United States Army. You were captured by United States forces openly bearing arms against my nation and my world."

"That's right." Lennar raised his chin. "And I am ready for your worst punishment."

"Punishment?" Tomasselli frowned, furrowing his dark brows. "You misunderstand me Mr. Lennar. On my world warfare is a part of life we have accepted. My people have laws that govern how we wage war based on respect for our opponents. You are my enemy, but you are also a fellow soldier and as such you are protected by the Geneva Convention and the Uniform Code of Military Justice."

"I… do not understand these names."

"It means you will not be tortured or harmed in any way. You will be held in captivity until the war is over, then you will be sent home. That is all."

"That's it?"

"As a soldier, you have my word."

The door opened again as the plain clothed man returned with a glass of water.

"There you go, please, drink it, we're in no hurry here."

Lennar carefully raised the glass to his lips, taking a small taste of the water and noting no peculiarities.

"We're not going to poison you." Tomasselli promised. "I gave you my word."

Lennar savored the water, dwelling on its coolness as he drained the glass.

"I'm Jeff Jenkins." The other man introduced. "I'm here to get you out of this place. Now you understand we can't send you home until after the war right? We can't risk you coming back to fight us later."

"Why not just kill me? I can't fight you then?"

"Because we respect life Mr. Lennar." Jenkins said. "We don't believe those who oppose us should be killed or destroyed. We don't believe that only those who agree with us have a right to life. We're not the Ori Mr. Lennar, and you have no need to fear us."

"We've already arranged transport for you." Tomasselli said. "You can be gone in an hour or two; we just want to make sure you are who you say you are."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it appears that you are a unit commander for the Ori, a normal human fighting in their ranks. That's fine, you are a lawful combatant. But we've heard that sometimes a Prior pretends to be a normal human so he can get into one of our bases."

"You can imagine the trouble that would cause." The soldier said firmly. "So before you can go we have to make sure you aren't a Prior."

"Me? A Prior?" Lennar almost laughed. "I am nowhere near that revered!"

"I don't think you are, but we have to make sure, procedure you understand."

Lennar shrugged. "I understand."

"That's the military life for you, always some form to fill out, some rule to follow, must be the same for you right?"

"Once upon a time, but not now."

"Really?"

"Yes, I haven't filed a report since joining the crusade." Lennar stated. "It's not required, we are well provided for."

"Must be a real time saver."

"Has its advantages."

"But you used to file reports before?" Jenkins picked up. "Before the war?"

"My life before Origin is meaningless." Lennar countered.

"None of our days are meaningless." Jenkins smiled. "They all add up, all make us what we are. Sure Origin might define you now, but how have you changed?"

"For the better."

"Really?" Tomasselli raised an eyebrow. "We keep hearing about how good Origin is, but we've never seen it. What changed for you, what was it like before they showed up?"

Lennar hesitated.

"You can tell us." Jenkins encouraged. "I mean it is your job, to spread Origin, to tell people what it's like so we'll join. How will we know if you don't tell us?"

Lennar nodded, it made sense and speaking of the past wouldn't mean much in the present.

"Origin saved me. It saved our entire world."

"How?"

"We were at war with each other; the fighting was bitter, fierce. The nations of my home had always been enemies but this war was different. We had developed since the last conflict, industrialized. This time men were dying by the tens of thousands, landscapes were turned into waste by artillery; the seas were filled with iron warships trying to smash each other."

"You were in one of those armies?"

"One of them." Lennar confirmed. "My nation was small put took great pride in the skill of its soldiers. We put quality above quantity but it didn't matter. Raw recruit or seasoned veteran, you still react the same way when a rifle bullet removes your skull."

He tightened his jaw, forcing past a wave of harsh memories.

"Skill was no match for heavy machine guns, my nation fell and I was taken a prisoner. I was beaten, humiliated and I was due to be executed. But then everything changed."

Tomasselli understood.

"The Ori arrived."

"You know who I am." Jackson kept a straight face. "Did you buy my book?"

"I know who you are Daniel, and what you have seen." The Prior stated. "You spoke with the Ori, you sat before them, and yet you still refuse to believe."

"I believe. I believe that the Ori exist, that they wield great power and that they reside on a higher plain of existence. But I do not believe they are gods, and I do not believe in joining them after death."

"Then you are only half way along your path my son, and I am here to help you come to its end."

"I already arrived there and bought the postcard." Jackson shook his head. "Origin is about sharing the truth, so let me share it with you. The truth of Origin is that there is no truth. It's all a lie, a scheme because the Ori need worship to thrive. They aren't gods; they are parasites pretending to be gods. Trust me; I have some experience in this field."

The Prior just smiled. "Your mind is not free Daniel, it is still weighed down by the world you were born into, and by the lies the Alterans fed you. Of course we will join them in ascension; you of all people should know this. You have experienced it."

"It didn't suit me."

"That is because you joined the Alterans, they do not understand the power they have, they refuse to use it. Everywhere people die, wars happen, disasters wipe out millions, the Goa'uld, the Replicators, what else? All of these things claimed countless lives and all of this time the Alterans had the power to stop it. You know this, you saw it. Yet even as billions cried out for help, those most capable of helping did nothing."

"The Alterans vowed not to interfere, not to use their power on this plain for any reason."

"And look what has occurred." The Prior tutted. "Under Origin, none of this would have happened."

He raised his voice.

"Under origin the people are cared for, they are valued. When a world cries for help the Ori respond. When disaster strikes the Ori help. When war comes, the Ori unleash their wrath. Humanity is a scion of the gods, we are their children, and like good parents they protect us."

"Eventually children have to leave the house or risk becoming a fat forty year old living in the basement."

"In time, but the Alterans simply vacated without a second thought, leaving nothing in place to protect you. Look what happened. Millennia of slavery, impoverishment, fear. This is the galaxy the Alterans left you and yet you call us the enemy?"

"The Alterans had their reasons, and the Ori have theirs." Jackson stated. "And their reasons aren't the betterment of all mankind."

"The gods do not share their plans with us." The Prior shook his head. "But see the results Daniel; look at the galaxy you come from, and the one I come from. You know I am right."

"That's the problem, the problem with Origin." Jackson said. "What if we don't want it?"

"What if you prefer to live under the Goa'uld you mean? In this galaxy of chaos?"

"Yes, what if we want chaos? What if that is our choice?"

"It is the wrong choice."

"But it's our choice to make, something the followers of Origin will never understand."

"We understand, we also understand that you are wrong, and for your own good you will accept Origin, even if we have to make you."

"I call that slavery."

"I call it tough love."

Colonel Fitzgerald at once raised an eyebrow.

"Tough love?"

"I caught it too." Carter echoed. "Since when do Priors watch Oprah?"

"This guy is definitely one of them; we took him in the field." Glyndon confirmed.

"How would he know that phrase?" Woolsey asked. "TV signals haven't reached that far out."

Carter turned away briefly to check the other interview, switching on the intercom to Observation Room Three.

"Colonel McNulty, Colonel Carter here."

"_I hear you."_

"Colonel, is there anything unusual about your prisoner? Any gestures or phrases that seem out of place?"

"_No, not a thing. He's more educated than the other prisoners, sounds like his world was similar to ours about a century ago. I think we've got a lot to work with."_

"What about the Prior, when you brought him in did he say anything?"

"_Not a word." _McNulty informed. _"After we bundled him up he was totally silent. He didn't even pray, our other guy did."_

"Wouldn't someone that religious, that dedicated to his faith pray for help?" Glyndon asked.

"Only if he wanted help." Fitzgerald considered.

"_Problem over there Colonel?"_ McNulty checked.

"I'll let you know." Carter answered, then closed the line.

"He didn't want to escape." Fitzgerald kept going. "More than that, maybe he actually wanted us to capture him."

"He was taken in a random ambush, how would he know?" Glyndon asked.

"I don't know, but something here isn't adding up." Fitzgerald decided. "And I want to know what."

"That must have been a big deal." Captain Tomasselli whistled. "Giant spaceship dropping out of the sky, guys who can perform miracles walking your streets. Easy to see why you followed them."

"Fact is I didn't buy it, not right away." Lennar said with a shrug. "Not many people did. But when the nation which held me sent a regiment to capture the first Prior to land he just wiped them out. So they sent a division and it took three Priors about ten minutes to kill twenty thousand men. Twenty thousand, I saw it with my own eyes. No weapons, no tricks, just the power of Origin. From that second I was a believer."

"It didn't bother you to see your race beaten like that?"

"These were the soldiers that had just overrun my homeland; I didn't shed a tear, not even when the Ori ship leveled one of their cities in retribution. The day after Origin was declared the official religion of every country and the wars ended. They brought us peace."

"They imposed peace, there is a difference." Tomasselli pointed out.

"Not to my people. Under Origin we were free again, the Priors took over ruling the planet and as long as we followed Origin we were free to live our lives."

"Live by their rules though, as laid down by the Book of Origin right?"

"Yes."

"So not really free, you've just chosen to live by their rules. Or else you'll see your cities burn."

"They prevented my execution, I owe them my life."

"And to pay them back you joined their army." The Captain considered. "You think that was a good idea?"

Lennar nodded. "It was a very good idea, it is my duty."

"To defend Origin by destroying unbelievers?"

"Yes, to stop heretics before they pollute the faithful."

"Doesn't matter to you that these heretics are living beings too? Good, honest people who are no threat to you? Who would happily live and let live with followers of Origin if you didn't threaten them?"

"The Priors say we must…"

"Forget the Priors for a minute." Tomasselli cut him off. "I'm asking you what you think."

"I think the Priors are right."

"Is that a fact?"

"It is, they are speakers of the gods."

"So I guess they never make mistakes then?"

Lennar frowned slightly.

"They are always right, aren't they?" Tomasselli leaned forward a little. "They'd never walk into an ambush, right?"

Lennar did not answer.

"Tell me how you got here Mr. Lennar."

The Ori soldier exhaled. "It is different."

"How is it different? The Prior walked into an ambush, and you knew."

"It is not my place to disagree with a speaker of the Ori."

"But you did disagree didn't you." Tomasselli pressed. "I was part of the unit that engaged you and I know for a fact you attempted to advise the Prior he was wrong, I saw you pointing out directions, suggesting alternate routes that weren't suicidal. You knew Lennar because you, like me, are a professional soldier and the Prior isn't. You knew and he didn't."

"Priors know everything."

"So why did he walk into an ambush? Either he didn't know, or he got your people killed deliberately, which is it?"

"I…"

"How many of those men were from your world? Your nation?" Tomasselli demanded. "How many were old soldiers? How many knew they were walking into a trap? How many did you serve with before the Ori? How many were your brothers in arms from old wars, men you owed your life to? How many looked at you to save them? To prevent the massacre they knew was coming? How many trusted you to save their lives? Lives lost because of that Prior? How many trusted you? Relied on you? Knew you were right and prayed you would stand up to the Prior? How many are dead because you failed in your responsibilities as an Officer?"

"Enough!" Lennar smashed his hands down on the table. "I couldn't have done anything!"

"But you knew he was wrong!"

"Yes I knew! I knew the Prior was wrong!"

"But you followed him anyway?"

"Yes I followed him! Yes we all did!"

"Why? Why follow him into an ambush?"

"Because if we didn't he'd have crushed our bodies with a thought!"

"You followed him because you were afraid of him! More afraid of his wrath then our bullets?"

"Yes!"

"Exactly!" Tomasselli thumped the table. "You followed the Prior because you were afraid of him; you do what he says because you fear punishment, not because you believe! You follow Origin Mr. Lennar because to do otherwise is to invite death. You are slave, a slave of fear forced to fight or to be killed, but what if there was another way out?"

"Have you ever seen a Prior in fury? Have you seen one wipe out thousands of professional soldiers?"

"No, but I have seen one helpless, his powers drained, weak as you or I."

Tomasselli grinned.

"You wanna see him too?"

"Bottom line is Origin is a lie." Jackson folded his arms. "You people are peddling a lie."

"Origin is very real, as we have demonstrated." The Prior replied. "Frequently and spectacularly."

"We've got this old saying back home. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Jackson stated. "I see a lot of sufficiently advanced technology in the Ori, I don't see divine intervention."

"The powers we possess are given to us directly from the Ori."

"And can be taken away just as easily." Jackson countered. "If it was divine power why can we stop it with a few circuits and energy fields?"

"Because the Ori will it."

"The Ori will the fact that their technology sucks?"

"They have withheld my powers, not you."

"Oh right, so they've forsaken you."

"It is a test."

"Of what?"

"Of my Faith."

"Is that so?"

"They have pretended to abandon me to see if I will abandon them. I will not."

"Really?"

"The gods will it."

"And your capture?"

"The gods will it."

"That bullet hole in your shoulder?"

"The gods will it."

"Deus Vult." Jackson stated. "God wills it. You know how many wars that phrase has started, how much pain? How much ignorance? Didn't you ever ask why the gods will it?"

The Prior shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"The ways of the Ori are not for mortals to understand."

"So you just go on Faith?"

"Yes."

"You kill worlds, slaughter millions, impose Origin on trillions because they tell you to?"

"Yes."

"Because they are gods?"

"Yes."

"Are the Alterans gods?"

The Prior seemed slightly surprised.

"Well are they?" Jackson pressed. "I mean they ascended, they live on the same plain of existence… they were the exact same race…"

"The Alterans are not the same."

"Oh they are, like you said earlier, I should know."

"The Ori are true gods."

"Yet both came from the same place, both ascended in the same way, and both exist in the same form today. If the Ori are gods, so are the Alterans, or if the Alterans are just advanced aliens, so too are the Ori."

"That comment would have been punishable by death."

"So why am I still alive? Why haven't the Ori struck me down?"

"Because it is their will not to."

"Why?"

"It is their will."

"For a speaker of the gods you don't have a lot to say." Jackson shook his head. "How much do you really know? It sounds to me that you don't really understand how this works, and if you don't understand it how do you know its right?"

"Faith."

"What if your faith is wrong?"

"It isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because the book of Origin instructs me."

"Ah yes, I was waiting until we got to this."

"The Book tells us all we need to know. If it is not in there we do not need it."

"Yeah, read the book, bit heavy going." Jackson winced. "Know what stood out? The complete lack of quantifiable facts. Lot of stories, lot of 'thou shalt' in there, not a lot of inarguable truth."

"The truth is all around us. Their power seen in their ships, their words, and their followers."

"Like You." Jackson smiled. "Feeling powerful?"

The Doctor locked eyes with the Prior.

"We have blocked their power Prior, say what you want you know its true, and if we can do that how powerful do you think your gods truly are?"

"The Ori are everywhere, they see and know all."

"Is that so?" Jackson raised an eyebrow. "So try this question."

"Yes?"

"Where is your god now?"

"This is a laptop; it's a personal information device." Captain Tomasselli pushed the computer across the table. "It shows live images captured and transmitted from elsewhere. Do you understand this concept? Have you seen it before?"

"I understand." Lennar confirmed.

"Look at the screen, what do you see?"

"I see… I see a Prior, in a room like this one!"

"Do you see he is chained?"

"Yes."

"Also do you recognize his face?"

"He is the one who commanded us on our deployment, who led us to our doom."

"He is being questioned just like you are now, just across the hall, if you don't believe me we can walk over there right now."

He tapped the top of the screen.

"Do you see he is helpless? Do you see that we have stripped him of his powers? That we now control his every option? Do you see the Ori have not rescued him, or given him greater power, or even broken through our countermeasures? We captured him just the same as we captured you, at the same time in the same way. You do see that?"

"Yes…yes I see."

"You see that without their powers the Priors are nothing? They are just like us. We can block their abilities; we can stop them and kill them. They can't rule us by fear or force because we can fight back, neutralize their power, and do whatever we want to them. With no power it's a question of skill and intelligence, and you know as well as I do that the Ori have no concept of how to fight a real war."

"How is this possible?" Lennar asked.

"It is a secret, but I assure you we can do this anytime we meet the Ori in battle. Why do you think the Prior was taken so easily, why do you think he is sitting there right now with nowhere to go?"

Lennar shook his head quietly. "I don't believe it."

"The Ori aren't gods, just very advanced aliens. All they do, they do through technology. That's all, they've had millions of years to perfect their devices, they seem supernatural and they use that appearance, but it's a lie. It can be countered, it can be defeated, and that is no lie. You can see the proof with your own two eyes."

Jenkins joined in.

"You have nothing to fear from this man anymore Lennar." The Agent promised. "He can't do anything anymore, look at him. He is just a man, a man who got your friends killed, who slaughtered countless innocent people and rules millions more through terror. He is just a man, the only thing that elevates him are his crimes. Crimes against us, against your world, against you. Everything he has told you has been a lie, you already knew that but fear prevented you from accepting it. There's no fear anymore Lennar. What does your heart tell you now?"

Lennar looked at the screen, his eyes burning into it.

"Would you follow this man into battle?"

"No." Lennar said.

"Why?"

"Because he is incompetent, he has no idea how to lead men. He doesn't care for the lives under his command."

"Then why do you still follow him now?"

Torac Lennar, a Soldier turned Warrior now finally became a Soldier once again.

"I don't."

Tomasselli nodded respectfully.

"Let's talk about the Ori ground forces."

"The Ori had a good idea, it was diabolically evil, but in a smart way." Doctor Jackson related. "You create your own religion, I mean how many times has that worked, and then get people to join it. Religion is great, it answers all your questions, even though it often doesn't actually say anything specific, and it discourages you from seeking your own answers. Origin is the truth because we say so, and to prove it, here's a rain of toads."

"A rain of toads?" The Prior asked.

"Or a hail of fire, rivers into blood, plague of locusts, pick your apocalypse." Daniel shrugged. "Point is you pull off some grand demonstration, everyone goes 'ooooh' and 'ahhh' and believes only the true gods can do that. And you Priors, you make it happen, instant miracles. Pretty awesome huh?"

"The power of the Ori is such."

"Works great with the pre-renaissance crowd, all those feudal worlds the Goa'uld held down, I bet they love you."

"They are open to the truth of Origin."

"But then you hit a snag. Some worlds aren't feudal; some have a philosophical education, technology of their own. They see you and they understand it isn't divine power, its just advanced technology. Your tricks don't work on them, so you have to be a bit more forceful. You have to invade, and break down that society, destroy its education system, kill anyone who questions you until all you have is one more feudal world. That's your plan for us isn't it?"

"Daniel, the Ori do not wish to destroy Earth."

"That's nice of them. Except it's a lie."

"No, we want to make it better."

Jackson smiled. "This should be fun."

"You have lost your way as many godless societies do."

"Our world isn't godless; we've got plenty of deities' thanks."

"All are false."

"Feel free to bring that idea to Earth, I can arrange for you to address a public rally in down town Baghdad…"

"The unbelievers cannot harm me."

"Of course not. Hey, how's the shoulder?"

"Deus Vult." The Prior cracked a thin smile.

"Nobody on Earth will accept you. They don't want Origin, they have their own faith, or lack of same."

"And where has it left you? Direction less, meandering, wading through your lives seeking some deeper reason for existence that you cannot find? Not just Earth, but Langara, Hebridan, Dakara. You are all of you lost, surrounded by luxuries but missing the truth, the greater meaning. You are lacking purpose, but we can help you find it again."

"By forcing us to join you on pain of death?"

"No Daniel. The Ori know the importance of Earth. You were a cradle, a scion of our race. The Alterans made many mistakes, they left a lot of loose ends across the universe, but we know Earth was the home of the second evolution. That means that your race, your world, is the holiest place in this galaxy for it is the closest place to the gods."

"I feel special."

"Earth will be the centre, elevated." The Prior informed. "You will not be mere followers of Origin, you will be overseers. The people of Earth are special, and you will be given special treatment, special powers. If you follow Origin of your own free will the rewards will be exceptional."

"Like?"

"Powers such as mine, a role administrating lesser worlds, responsibility for ruling whole cities, whole worlds even. Anyone on Earth who accepts Origin will be elevated to a position of great power, and will benefit from all that comes with it. Wealth, privileges, prestige, concubines, worship even. Earth is the seat of the gods in this galaxy, and all who live on it will be treated as demi-gods themselves."

"This guy is seriously fucking good." Fitzgerald said. "I mean seriously, seriously grade A good."

"I think I get it." Woolsey nodded, sharing the insight. "He's changing his pitch."

"All this time the Ori have been about religion, because religion was the overriding thing on most worlds." Fitzgerald announced. "They could use religion to tap into a system that everyone knew, everyone respected, everyone feared."

"Like a preset command structure." Carter mused.

"Exactly, they just made sure the Ori replaced whoever was at the top before, Apophis or whatever." The Colonel ran through. "But that won't fly on Earth; we don't treat religion with that sort of importance anymore. At least not in the countries they need to subvert as a priority."

"The ones with the arsenals and technology to fight them effectively." Glyndon figured.

"Exactly, so they change their pitch, they ditch religion and throw something else our way."

"Greed." Woolsey stated. "Lust for power, the need to be powerful, respected, appreciated. Damn they know us too well."

"Like the ultimate reality show, take a member of the public and instead of elevating them to being a pop star or business executive you make them a fucking god." Fitzgerald exhaled. "Who is going to say no to that? Especially when they can actually do it."

"They can't make all six billion people gods though." Glyndon said. "They don't have that big an empire, do they? And how will they maintain control with so many people running around living the ultimate hedonistic existence?"

"They don't have to; they just have to promise it." Carter said. "Give a few people power and keep the rest waiting until it's too late."

"Or give everyone power and let us kill each other off over petty jealousy and old rivalry." Fitzgerald said. "You want to imagine a thousand Taliban with Prior abilities?"

"Global anarchy." Woolsey said. "They don't need to invade us; they can sit back while we destroy ourselves."

"Do they have the power to do this though? Can they get on Earth and start randomly giving away powers like cereal box toys or is this a bluff?" Colonel Glyndon asked.

"I don't know." Carter opened the door to the observation room. "I'll ask."

"It's a medieval army, but with advanced weapons." Lennar said simply. "They fight like a rabble; professional soldiers slaughter them, which you probably knew."

"Hadn't escaped our notice." Tomasselli nodded. "Why don't people like you offer advice?"

"A few tried, we never saw them again." Lennar said. "We heard they were executed as blasphemers, for questioning the word of a Prior."

"Telling him his tactics were childlike I guess?"

"Probably." Lennar nodded. "And they were right, but there's no move to reform, no move to change."

"Not many religion based cultures want to change, they actively discourage it." Tomasselli said. "Change makes people ask questions, if thinks in the past were wrong enough to be changed does that mean the future is different too? Does that mean when something is wrong it should be changed here and now? Will our children live in different times? It's a threat to their power, especially when people below them know better. So they enforce dogma, even if it costs effectiveness, even if it costs lives."

Lennar nodded. "I think you are right."

"It has happened before. I understand your position Mr. Lennar, there was a time when I trained to be a Holy Man." Tomasselli remarked. "I was going to be a priest, to administer sacraments and lead people in prayer. I understand faith and the way religion works, the power it holds, the hope it gives. It is a beautiful thing, but it is so easy to manipulate, to use for the gain of a few. The Ori are no different, you must have seen this in their ranks."

"I saw it." Lennar confirmed.

"Will you be willing to tell us about Ori weapons? Training techniques? Their logistics train and organization? Command chains?"

"Yes."

"On your world before the Ori you must have appreciated the value of these things, so you must have looked for them in the Ori."

"I did." Lennar nodded. "And I will cooperate. I knew what they were, I knew, but what could I have done?"

"Nothing." Tomasselli nodded. "Nothing until now."

Jenkins stood, smiling genuinely.

"You made a big leap Mr. Lennar, you overcame your fear, you let your reason win through. Not many people let themselves do that, even those who don't have real fears as you did."

"We promise you will be well treated." Tomasselli stood up too. "I'm going to bring in some other people; they will ask you some very specific questions. They want to know about how the Ori army functions."

"Alright." Lennar nodded. "I'll help."

"This is the first step towards giving true freedom to your people." Tomasselli said sincerely, then reached for the door.

"Wait." Lennar said. "Why didn't you become a priest?"

"Why?"

"Yes, what changed? Did you lose your faith?"

Tomasselli shook his head. "No, I still have it. Something happened back home and it showed me that people need two sorts of protection. They need someone to look after their souls, and someone to look after their lives. I decided it was more important to protect their lives today and their souls tomorrow."

Lennar nodded. "I want to tell you something. I need you to understand I'm telling you so you can protect yourselves."

Tomasselli froze. "Go on."

"I will not betray my people; I will not have their blood on my hands."

"I understand."

"Your people destroyed a base recently, an Ori camp with some sort of explosive missiles?"

"Yes, their main base in this sector."

"It wasn't their main base. Their main staging area is on my world. Understand I cannot tell you its location, I will not let you attack it, it is too close to civilians."

"How big is this base?"

"Six hundred thousand warriors."

Tomasselli set his jaw. "Thank you."

"Captain." Lennar continued. "Something else. Just a rumor, but the Ori, they aren't doing this alone."

He looked squarely at both men.

"They have allies in this galaxy."

Carter burst into the room, yanking across a chair to the surprise of the assembled interrogators.

"Colonel…" Pollard began, but didn't finish his sentence.

"Drop the act." Sam demanded, glaring at the Prior. "Who are you?"

"I am a humble messenger of Origin."

"Bullshit!" Carter snapped. "Where are you from? Talk or I let Colonel Kharakov and his pliers finish this talk!"

The Prior raised an eyebrow, then broke into a smile.

"What gave it away?" He asked.

"Tough love." She answered.

"Ah fudge, you spend so much time watching TV you pick up things, ways of speaking. There was a study on the way TV shapes vocabulary on Dr. Phil last week."

"Okay, you're going to tell us how you know these things." Agent Pollard said darkly.

"Why don't you tell him Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter?" The Prior grinned. "How are Teal'c and Jack? Still enjoying Star Wars? More of a Battlestar fan myself."

"Yeah, we already figured out you knew more than you told us." Jackson said. "Like my name at the start of the interrogation."

"You're famous." The Prior said. "It is in part why I'm here. We knew that capturing a Prior would be a big thing, and the SGC would send its foremost expert to interrogate me. That would be you."

"You let yourself be captured so you could have a little chat with me?"

"More or less." The Prior said, then grimaced. "Though the bullet hole was unexpected."

"Why?" Sam asked. "You must have studied us, studied Earth, why?"

"Know thy enemy." The Prior smiled. "I know your weakness. The secret to defeating your world without firing a shot, and I am not the only one."

He peeled off a laugh, confident and mocking in tone.

"What? Did you think we were all like Friar Tuck? Grey pilgrims hobbling around forests until we get sent off to battle? Some of us are privileged to be given greater responsibilities, tasks that require intelligence, forethought, planning."

"A thinking class of Prior." Daniel frowned. "Above blind faith?"

"If you have reason you must know the Ori aren't gods?" Pollard stated forcefully.

"Aren't they?" The Prior asked. "What is a god? Who cares where they started from, it is where they are now that counts, and where we will be too."

"If you know they aren't gods why do you follow them?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The Prior gave them a slightly bemused look. "Because they let me rule planets and burn people who look at me in the wrong way."

Jackson chuckled to himself, weighing up the new information. "So it's a power trip, just like the Goa'uld."

"They needed me, asked me to join them and gave me these abilities if I said yes. The same deal they are going to offer your world."

"Six billion Priors all on one planet? No one could control that."

"It won't be six billion, just a few key individuals, ones in positions of influence, who could rise to rule, to further our goals. Earth is a threat, one that is too costly to invade and too stubborn to convert through preaching. So we need another approach, and we all know it's going to work."

"I think you're wrong." Jackson said simply.

"Now who's relying on false faith?" The Prior chuckled.

"How do you know so much about Earth?" Pollard asked again.

"We have our ways and means." He said. "Not just Earth either, Hebridan, few other places. They'll go the same way, it's already started."

"How?"

"How?" The Prior smiled. "How much do you trust your allies?"

"Our allies?"

"Yes, the ones who've sampled your culture, had access to your decision making, been to your world…Oh, and been promised powers akin to godhood by us? You'd be surprising how convincing that is. And Dakara is so nice this time of year…Oops."

"Dakara?" Pollard snatched up. "You've been to Dakara?"

"Hallowed are the Ori."

"Who have you spoken to in the Free Jaffa?"

"Hallowed are the Ori."

"Who is feeding you information?"

"Hallowed are the Ori."

"This is over." Jackson stood up. "For now. We've got plenty to talk about."

"Haven't we just." The prior grinned. "Hallowed are the Ori."

The group walked out of the room, shutting the soundproof door behind them.

"This is bad." Jackson said. "Real bad, we expected the Ori to purge intellectuals, not use them."

"This adds a different dimension to the Priors." Sam agreed. "They don't just blindly follow orders, some of them can think for themselves."

"And he's not a religious fanatic; he's doing it for power and greed." Pollard pointed out. "That actually gives us some leverage. I'll go back in there tomorrow and start taking him apart."

"You think it's true what he said, about the Free Jaffa?" Sam wondered. "Are they in league with the Ori?"

"I don't know." Jackson shook his head. "We need other sources of confirmation, but it would help explain a lot."

"Jack isn't going to like this, when they were fanatics they were one thing, but this is a lot more dangerous." Carter grimaced.

"I'll let him know what we've found." Daniel nodded. "It could just be a giant bluff, he might not have let himself be captured and now he's just messing with us."

"Sowing discord." Pollard understood. "We've got methods for breaking down lies, but now you've got him talking that chat gave me all I need. We'll take it from here."

"Watch out for him." Jackson cautioned. "He's trying to play us, and he's no amateur."

"In this business, neither are we." Pollard answered. "Thanks again Doctor Jackson, we wouldn't have this without you."

Pollard opened the door to the observation room just as Fitzgerald was leaving.

"Well done Colonel." He said in passing. "Hope you got what you were looking for."

"Plenty thanks, ready to start again tomorrow." Fitzgerald agreed. "I doubt he'll give away anymore today."

Pollard confirmed gruffly and went to review the recordings, letting Fitzgerald join his two fellow travelers.

"I'll say it now; this is one hell of a first day."

"Should have seen what mine was like." Jackson exhaled.

"At least you can see now what we're facing Colonel." Carter spoke. "And why we needed your expertise."

"Of course, this is the sort of threat you never imagine facing."

"You seem to be taking it well." Jackson observed.

"It takes a lot to surprise me these days Doctor, years of practice playing cool." He grinned.

"The Teal'c school of dramatic restraint." Daniel smiled. "Sorry, in-joke."

"We need to make a move." Carter reminded her companions. "This new Prior is going to create a lot of ripples, and we're going to have to talk with the Free Jaffa Attaches to see if they've noticed anything suspicious back home."

"Jack's going to be a busy man." Daniel supposed. "Sorry Colonel, looking at the situation I think you'll be part of the SGC for quite a while."

"Not a problem Doctor." Fitzgerald smiled, working out how many more years it was going to be until he got that combat brigade. "We're all prisoners of our talents."

**New York City**

The Great Lawn of Central Park was both resplendent and a beehive of activity on what was a near-perfect summer day. All of the things you might see in a postcard or a movie were happening on the massively landscaped piece of parkland in the heart of Manhattan. Tall skyscrapers and the gilded penthouse towers of the well-to-do were lit by the radiating sunlight hitting their glass. Families were laying out on blankets as people threw Frisbees, tossed baseballs and enjoyed picnics without a care in the world as singsong voices led a chorus of different languages common to the five boroughs, English and Spanish mostly but a few others thrown in as well. Two individuals stood taking in the site, one completely slack-jawed, the other just appreciating the sights and smells of home.

Major Evan Lorne had known that he'd make it back to Earth eventually, whether through a routine transfer or at least for some extended leave. Like many in the Atlantis expedition, he'd come to be so focused on the job at hand that thoughts of home had receded somewhat, but never fully. Atlantis was beautiful, a wonder that even the hard-bitten military personnel marveled at. But coming home was another matter all together. There was nothing like a gorgeous day back home to take your mind off all the problems off-world.

Lorne hadn't expected to be home anytime soon. He wasn't due for his normal rotation home and there was so much going on back at Earth's Pegasus Galaxy outpost that he hadn't been holding his breath for a trip out. Spots on the _Daedalus_ were limited and the use of the ZPM's for Earth-bound wormholes was strictly rationed. That all changed when he'd been summoned to General Birmingham's office without warning.

"_You wanted to see me sir?"_

"_Yeah Major, step in and shut the door." Lorne stepped in, shutting the door behind him only to see that Sheppard and Doctor Weir were already sitting down. Neither looked particularly concerned. Birmingham motioned for Lorne to grab a seat._

"_Thanks for coming down quickly. I know you've been pretty busy with integrating a lot of the new personnel in and still doing some off-world missions with the Colonel."_

_Lorne sat back in his chair and saw the ambush coming from a mile away, and he was smart enough to know that Birmingham was conscious of his awareness. "It's been busy sir, but it's a good busy. I'd rather have the new personnel and resources than not." _

"_You're right there. Anyway, we asked you to come by because we have something to discuss with you. A request of sorts. Doctor?"_

_Weir leaned forward in her seat as Lorne turned in his seat to face her, a sense that he'd been summoned to the principal's office filling him. "Major, we have an odd request for you, and this is something that we emphasize is voluntary in nature. As you know, we've had Sora, our Genii 'guest' you could say, for some time. I say 'guest' because realistically she's no longer a prisoner. She's cooperated fully, given us the information to capture Koyla and expressed an interest in becoming integrated with this expedition and with humanity. Even the General has been impressed."_

_Lorne looked over to Birmingham, who simply nodded. "That's true, and believe me when I say I was not a fan to start." _

"_With that in mind, we'd like to start acclimating her to our culture and how we do things. Simply put, we'd like you to take her to Earth for a visit."_

_Lorne blinked hard. "You want me to take Sora to Earth? Like on a vacation?"_

"_Yes. We're setting up an itinerary through the SGC. You'd be taking her to a few locations. Washington, New York, Paris. We want her to get the full exposure to our culture and how we live. The SGC and the IOA are becoming enthusiastic about introducing the peoples of other worlds to our planet. They feel, probably correctly, that many alien worlds have gotten a skewed image of us since all they ever saw was an underground bunker of concrete. They're hoping these trips will change that and at the same time engender the same cooperation when we go to Disclosure. It will most likely be a two to three week stay. What do you think?"_

_Lorne was speechless. He had no personal animus towards Sora. He'd actually been quite impressed with her willingness to learn about the humans of Earth, especially how much she seemed to read every day, from biographies to histories to Jane Austen. Add in the fact that she had a good personality and was not exactly a strain on the eyes and Lorne could see the benefits._

"_Let me see. You want me to volunteer for an all-expense paid trip to New York and Paris that involves sight-seeing and nice dinners, in the company of an attractive woman? This is a lot to ask…" Lorne cracked a smile to his superiors. "When do we leave?"_

Looking back on the conversation made it even funnier now. The look on his travelling companions face at the moment was even funnier.

"How…?"

"How what? Feel free to pick up your jaw at any time." The look on the young woman's face was priceless and had been there consistently since they arrived on Earth.

"How have you people escaped it?"

"Escaped what?"

"The fear."

Lorne was quiet for a few moments, trying to formulate an answer. "Sheer luck I guess."

"This is more than luck. Your people have been touched somehow. How else do you explain a world like this, devoid of fear of the Wraith? Of imminent death at any moment? No culling, no hives, no plans."

Lorne looked down at the shorter, red haired young woman. She was dressed casually in beige Capri's, sandals and a white sleeveless blouse, all provided by the US Government. In her hand was a latte from Starbucks. Ordering the latte at a nearby shop had been an experience all its own, requiring a lengthy explanation from Lorne about caffeinated beverages.

In all of Lorne's travels while with the SGC, he'd come to the conclusion that most of the universe ran on desperate anxiety. Whether it was human or not, most societies that knew of life beyond their world were scared of the bigger threat, be it Goa'uld, Ori or Wraith. To him it was like the schoolyards of his youth, where just the mere mention of a certain bully could send some crying and make others prepare all sorts of ways to avoid the threat. That is, until someone put the bully in their place. He wondered if interstellar relations were actually that simple in form and scope. The few aliens who'd spent time on Earth outside the glorified bunker that was the SGC tended to fall back on the 'touched' argument that Sora was throwing out. Lorne wasn't buying.

"Sora, I'd say we've just been lucky. There are parts of this world where people don't feel so lucky. I don't know if we've been touched so much as _untouched_. We've had the luck of ignorant bliss, at least in terms of the wider universe you know."

"Your people can do so much."

"So can yours, if they get the opportunity. It's not so much a matter of us knowing more; its that we've had the chance to learn on our own without having to worry about the things you've had to fear. Our bogymen have been of our own creation."

"What is a bogyman?"

"Sorry, Earth term for an evil spirit. I meant it in terms of the Wraith and others."

"Ah, I see." Sora turned her attention to the massive buildings bordering the park and to the towers in the distance. She batted her eyes in an attempt to play Lorne. "So, what is this 'Empire State Building' you mentioned?"

Lorne chuckled. "Allow me to show you."

As they walked along the path, Sora continued to take in the sights and sounds as if trying not to miss a thing. A small troop of people on ten-speed bikes flew past on the road.

"Doctor Weir said that you were from an area not far from this place."

"That's right. It's about three hours away from here. It's called Pennsylvania."

"Did you like it? Where you came from?"

"It wasn't bad; sometimes boring though."

"Really? How could this be boring?" Sora held up her hands and looked around.

"Sora, not all of my country or this world is like this. Many places are just small cities and towns. This is not typical of everywhere."

"Consider where I come from Evan. I'm sure it would still impress me. Why did you leave it?"

"I was looking to do more with my life and the military seemed like a good challenge. There really wasn't anything to stay home for so I signed up for officer training when I went to college."

"Are people required to serve in the military here? We required it."

"No, it's voluntary here. It was mandatory a long time ago. My dad was drafted into the army for a time. Some countries on Earth still have that."

"It seems so weird to me, a world with so many different independent nations. How do you make it work here?"

"Not well some of the time. There are still wars going on here at anytime."

"I read about Iraq; have you been there?"

Lorne grew quiet. "Yes, a while ago."

Sora saw that Lorne didn't want to talk so she moved on. She watched as two teams of small children played a game with a ball as their parents cheered them on. "What are they playing?"

"It's called soccer." Sora watched as the teams ran back and forth, totally engrossed in their efforts.

"So none of these people know?"

"No."

"How will they react?"

"I don't know."


End file.
